The Salvation of Silas
by Elizabeth7
Summary: COMPLETED. SilasOC. When Silas is given a second chance at life after narrowly escaping death from his bullet wounds, will he take the opportunity to turn his life around and make better choices? Redemption fic.
1. Chapter 1

_They have returned me evil for good to the ruining of my soul._

_Psalm 35:12_

**Chapter One**

_But a certain Samaritan, as he journeyed, came where he was. And when he saw him, he had compassion._

_Luke 10:33_

Silas felt the bullets rip through his skin and flesh, and the pain enraged him. He could actually see the red wash over his vision, as it had so many times before. His only instinct was to lash out and inflict damage before it was inflicted on him but this time, it was already too late. He was badly hurt.

Wildly, his eyes sought those of Bishop Aringarosa but the Bishop's eyes were already glazed in death as he lay on the cold cobbles. There would be no further help or guidance there. For a second, Silas felt at sea without his old mentor to direct him. He could hear the steps of more police arriving at a run.

He only had one option. He had to run too.

An odd guttural sound erupted from his mouth as he swung away from the scene. Even in his torment, he recognized the resonance of his own grief.

Silas didn't know where he was going. He was just trying to get away. The streets were narrow and dim, and wound torturously through old, multi-storied housing. The sound of his gasping breath seemed to echo off the walls as if to mock him. He could hear footsteps chasing him. They weren't far away. Occasionally a shot was fired but the winding streets made it impossible for the police to aim accurately.

Finally, Silas ducked into an open door and closed it behind him. He heard the footsteps run past. He knew he didn't have much time to double back before they realized they had missed him and returned the way they came. Dimly he realized he was in someone's downstairs laundry but he was out of the door quickly and running in the direction he had come only seconds before.

He could feel himself weakening. The bullet wounds were excruciating and he still had his cilice on which was digging further into the flesh of his leg the further he ran. He knew he had lost a lot of blood and could feel himself getting dangerously light-headed.

His feet pounded on the cobbles until he had run up and down enough cobbled streets to feel he was somewhat safe. He knew that once the police started making a concerted search however, it would not take long for them to find him. He needed a place to hide. He needed sanctuary.

As he staggered down a particularly narrow street, he rounded a curve and found himself close to a tiny grassed area with a grotto. He knew immediately that it had to be the back courtyard of a Catholic Church. They often had grottos dedicated to the Virgin.

If he could only get inside the church, he was sure they would shelter him. He was a monk after all. He only made it within a few steps of the grotto before everything went dark and the earth tilted away from his feet.

Sennett liked to go to the Cathedral to pray but rarely did so. Although the silence and peace was a good thing, sometimes it was almost too much. More often than not, she preferred to be busy. If she stayed quiet too long, she was prone to melancholy and Sennett didn't care much for it.

It was even rarer that she visited the grotto. She knew it was there but she had never been one who practiced a great deal of devotion to Mary. She knew Mary was Christ's mother and deserved respect, she believed that great Saints like Bernadette of Lourdes had seen and spoken to her but Sennett was never one for Marian devotion. She preferred to go direct to the source, to God Himself.

Still, the grotto was a peaceful spot in an over-crowded city. London was not a city that Sennett enjoyed. A native of the French countryside, she found it dirty and teeming with humanity. There was work for her in London that was not available in France, however.

When Sennett saw the brown bundle on the grass, she thought it was a heap of old clothes. On closer inspection, she decided it was a homeless person. That was before she saw the blood.

She knelt down on the cold grass and gingerly bent closer to check his pulse. It was obvious from the person's sheer bulk that it was a man, brown dress or not. As she put her fingers on his neck, she saw the cord around his waist that could only mean a monk. There was definitely a pulse but it was obvious he was badly wounded too. She was just about get up to call an ambulance when the monk regained consciousness.

She was immediately arrested by his eyes. They were so pale, they were almost colourless. It was uncanny and made her shiver. Then she noticed the white hair under the hood that was coming away from his head. Another look at the pale skin of his face confirmed it.

"An albino monk in a church grotto isn't at all likely," she muttered to herself, "Much less a bleeding one."

The monk immediately tried to sit up, his white skin stretching tight across his prominent cheekbones as the pain from his wounds made itself felt.

"You need an ambulance," Sennett said matter-of-factly, starting to get up.

An immensely strong hand gripped her arm tightly.

"No! No ambulance," a deep, hoarse voice said from the depths of his cowl.

"You can't stay here," Sennett said with concern, "You'll bleed to death."

"I'm not afraid of dying," the hoarse voice said with a strange inflection that sounded almost wistful.

"Well, you're not dying while I'm around," Sennett said with a calm sort of bossiness, "I have a doctor and nurse as neighbours - one of the benefits of living in a wealthy suburb like Kensington," she said wryly, "You had better come with me. Do you think you can get up?"

Sennett stood up and Silas gripped her arm, leaning heavily against her as he got to his feet.

"My flat is only a block from here. If you lean on me, we might be able to get you there," she said.

Sennett took hold of the monk's arm and gently led him and he shuffled along the cobbles, often swaying alarmingly and seeming about to over-balance. Fortunately for both of them, Sennett's flat was on ground level.

She helped him lie on the couch and then said, "I'm going to fetch the doctor - won't be a moment."

Silas lay on the couch, barely aware of where he was. All he knew was that he had thrown off the police for now and wasn't a patient in a hospital where he would be easy for the authorities to find.

How many men had he killed today? In the last 24 hours? His pale brows furrowed. He couldn't remember. There were too many. It would take many days of fasting and penance, and a good confession to atone for his many recent sins of murder. As he worried over this thought, he drifted in and out of consciousness.

"Diggory, would you and your wife be able to come and see to a man who has been shot? I found him bleeding and unconscious near the church grotto and managed to bring him back to my flat. He seems to be afraid of hospitals," Sennett explained.

"A common phobia," the middle-aged doctor said wryly. "I'll need your help, Sophie," he called to his wife who was a nurse as he picked up his doctor's bag that he kept near the door.

"Look after the others, Susie," Sophie called out to her eldest child who was in her mid-teens as they left.

Once inside Sennett's flat, the doctor frowned when he saw the blood and carefully cut away the monk's robes to show three bullet wounds. One went cleanly through the shoulder, one through the ribs just under the skin, and one through the skin and muscle of his left arm.

"He's lucky," the doctor said matter-of-factly. "The bullets all came out cleanly and none touched his major organs or bones. I'll sterilize these wounds and give him some antibiotics. In a few days, I can sew them up. As long as he rests and doesn't move around too much, he should be perfectly fine in a few weeks. However, he has lost a lot of blood."

Silas was staring blankly at the doctor out of his strange eyes as he worked, still only half conscious.

"Do you know your blood type?" the doctor asked him.

Silas frowned and then said, "A positive," in little more than a whisper, his voice gravelly.

"Good, you're a match for me. I can give you a couple of pints. That was my only real worry," the doctor said.

"I'm A positive too," Sennett said, "I give blood regularly."

"How long since your last donation?" the doctor asked, carefully swabbing Silas' shoulder wound.

"About four or five months," Sennett said, frowning as she ticked off the months.

"That's fine. You're okay to donate again. Sophie, can you take two pints from Sennett please while I finish this and then you can take another two from me," the doctor asked his wife.

Sophie was already taking the equipment from the doctor's bag. Soon Sennett was set up in the armchair with a needle in one arm.

Less than an hour later, the blood transfusions were going into Silas' arm and he began to look less bluey grey and more like his usual white.

The doctor gave Sennett a bottle of pain killers for Silas and said either he or Sophie would be back the next day to change the dressings. He had given Silas a powerful shot of morphine and the large monk was sleeping soundly.

"He'll be out until morning," the doctor assured Sennett on his way out. He gave Sennett an anxious look on the doorstep. "You don't know anything about him, so take care Sennett," he said. "Any problems, you know where we are."

"He's a monk, how dangerous can he be?" Sennett said with a shrug and a smile.

"Someone wanted him dead," the doctor said warningly, "Wanted him dead quite badly from the look of it. Why was that, do you think?" he added with a quizzical look.

Sennett was silent for a moment. "I don't know," she said finally, her voice subdued.

"Strange looking man," the doctor mused. "Real albinos are quite rare – and a monk into the bargain. It's not very likely, is it?" he added, echoing Sennett's own words.

"Not likely at all," Sennett agreed and with profuse thanks, said good-bye to her neighbours.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

_few and evil have the days of the years of my life been_

_Genesis 47:9_

The night passed peacefully. Sennett placed blankets over the sleeping monk before going to bed herself. When she got up the next morning, he was still asleep.

As she was fixing her breakfast in her tiny kitchen, she heard the couch creak in a tell-tale way. She went to the doorway of the kitchen and looked in at the rumpled figure of the monk. He still looked groggy although he was sitting upright.

"Do you drink coffee or tea?" she asked kindly.

He stared at her blankly, as though decisions about what to drink were new to him. Finally he shook his head and shrugged slightly, as though to say he would have either.

"Tea then," Sennett said and ducked back into the kitchen.

She brought the tray out and set it between them on a low table.

"Milk and sugar?" she asked.

The monk frowned. "What day is it?" he asked suddenly in his strange, grating voice.

"Monday," she said, surprised by the question.

"Some milk please," he replied.

"You have milk because it is Monday?" she teased him gently, handing him a steaming cup.

"I can't have milk in my tea on a fast day," he explained, staring blankly into his tea.

"You need to drink that. You lost a lot of blood, so you need fluids," Sennett said.

He sipped it without appearing to taste it.

"I don't even know your name," Sennett said, drinking her own tea, "I'm Sennett, by the way."

"Silas," he said in a whisper, as though he was afraid to say his own name.

"I'll need to get you some new clothes," Sennett commented, nodding towards the parts of Silas' robe that had been cut in order to treat his wounds, "Your robe is soaked in blood."

_Your hands are soaked in blood_, a nasty inner voice whispered tormentingly to Silas. He almost dropped his tea cup. He desperately wanted to do penance but there was no means in this woman's flat.

"I won't be able to find another monk's robe for you, I'm sorry. You'll have to make do with jeans and pullovers until you go back to your monastery," Sennett was saying conversationally.

Silas stared blindly at her. _What monastery_, he thought? He could never return to Opus Dei or the Vatican or any monastery without Bishop Aringarosa's protection after killing so many - and the Bishop was gone.

So suddenly that it caught him by surprise, he was reliving the moment of losing his best and only friend in the world, seeing him lying on the cold cobbles bleeding from a wound that Silas himself had accidentally given him. His tea cup fell from his suddenly nerveless fingers and a cry escaped from his lips. Forgetting where he was, two tears escaped down his ravaged face. His pale eyes rimmed in red looked quite wild as they turned inward on this involuntary vision.

Sennett watched him carefully, sitting very still. It was obvious to her that he was reliving difficult memories and it was best stay quiet. Silently she retrieved the unbroken and empty cup from the carpet and set it carefully on the table. She could feel pity like a hard ball under her ribs. There was something so pathetic about this hulking, strange-looking monk. He seemed so lost and vulnerable, like an animal that had lost its skin. She had felt that way about him since seeing him bleeding in the grotto.

Finally, his breathing seemed to slow down again and he seemed to come back to himself.

"What happened to you?" Sennett asked simply, handing him another cup of milky tea.

He stared uncomprehendingly at the cup for a moment and then at her.

She had confused him. He didn't understand why she was asking what had happened to him when he had been the one who had killed so many. He couldn't understand why she wasn't asking, 'what have you done?'

Hesitantly he took the cup from her and held it gingerly in his hands.

He has beautiful hands, Sennett thought inconsequentially. They were slender and long-fingered and pale but looked strong and masculine too.

"I was shot," Silas began after clearing his throat, "by police".

Sennett watched him carefully. He was telling the truth, she knew.

"Why did the police shoot you?" she asked, her voice deliberately quiet. She was surprised she felt shocked; after all it was obvious that he had been shot by somebody. Perhaps it was just hearing him say it out loud.

Silas hung his head miserably. "Because I had already shot two policemen and was still armed," he said in a voice so low that Sennett barely heard.

Sennett was silent for a moment. "Why did you shoot them?" Sennett persisted in a carefully even voice, trying to keep any tremor out of her voice.

"They were raiding the house of Opus Dei where I was staying. I don't know why they were there but they could have come in order to arrest me," he said wretchedly.

"Okay," Sennett said and paused, reflecting that the story actually got worse with every answer to her questions, "Why would they want to arrest you?"

"I had already killed four men," Silas said, finally raising his odd eyes to her face. To his surprise, she didn't show any emotion at this pronouncement. She didn't look angry or disgusted or even afraid. It was a relief. He was used to people looking at him that way; people who didn't even know his worst secrets.

Sennett deliberately kept her face blank. She knew reacting to this bad news would only have a negative impact on him emotionally and she didn't want to set him off. "Why did you kill them?" Sennett asked calmly but with genuine curiousity.

"They were enemies of the Church and sinful men!" Silas replied, a strange light kindling in his strange eyes and his voice showing a tinge of anger for the first time.

"Who told you that?" she asked gently.

"The Bishop," Silas replied and then stopped abruptly when he remembered once again that his friend was dead, "and the Teacher," he concluded more quietly.

"Which Bishop?" Sennett asked curiously, her eyes narrowing slightly. She didn't know too many Bishops but was interested none-the-less.

"Bishop Aringarosa, the Head of Opus Dei. He's dead now," Silas whispered, a troubled expression crossing his face like a shadow.

"Who was this Teacher person?" Sennett asked.

"I don't know. I never met him. I only spoke to him on the phone," Silas replied, finishing his tea and putting the cup down carefully.

"You killed four men under the instruction from someone you only spoke to on the phone?" Sennett said, her incredulity finally showing in her voice.

"Bishop Aringarosa put me in touch with him and told me to obey him," Silas said flatly.

"Why did you trust this Bishop so much?" Sennett asked with concern.

"He saved me!" Silas said, suddenly passionate. His pale eyes gleamed with fervour. "He saved me from a bad life and showed me the right way to live. He showed me the way to God and taught me everything that is good. I owe the Bishop everything!"

"He was a friend to you," Sennett said evenly, although to Sennett the Bishop sounded like anything but a friend.

"He was the only person who ever had been a friend to me," Silas said, his passion gone as suddenly as it had flared. He suddenly looked very tired and weak. One hand crept to the bandage on his shoulder and Sennett realized he was in pain.

She poured a third cup of tea and pushed two bottles of pills towards him.

"Doctor's orders," she said firmly.

"What are they?" Silas asked with a frown.

"Antibiotics," she lied blithely. She had a feeling that if he knew the second bottle was pain killers, he wouldn't take them. Some orders of monks led very ascetic lives and would baulk at taking medications for pain.

As he was taking them she asked, "Do you want toast or cereal or egg for breakfast?"

He looked at her curiously, "You're not afraid of me, are you?" he asked suddenly in his odd rasping voice.

Sennett realized with surprise that he was right. Against all common sense, she was not afraid of the monk. Although the things he had done were shocking, she still felt more sorry for him than anything else.

"I'm not an enemy of the Church, so you're not likely to kill me, are you?" she said lightly, her dark eyebrows raised slightly.

"Most people are afraid of me even when they don't know what I've done," he said, his gaze returning to his half-drunk tea.

"Why?" Sennett asked, genuinely confused.

Silas' pale brows drew together in a frown. "Because I look different," he said, as though it should be obvious. He hung his pale head as though in shame.

"Oh, I think blondes are very attractive," Sennett teased gently, getting up to go to the kitchen to make breakfast.

Silas looked completely nonplussed. He was not used to being teased kindly. He had no idea how to respond.

"Egg?" Sennett repeated, trying to suppress her grin at his confusion.

Silas just nodded and went back to staring at the table top.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

_But his flesh will be in pain over it, and his soul will mourn over it._

_Job 14:22_

By the time Silas had eaten two boiled eggs and about four pieces of toast, his eyes were beginning to close of their own accord due to the pain killers.

"I've got a spare room but I need to put fresh sheets on the bed for you and get you some clothes first. There is no point getting blood all over your bed," Sennett said, as Silas lay down again on the couch, "Do you know your size?"

Silas frowned and thought for a moment. "56," he finally said groggily and then his eyes closed as the drugs took effect.

It had obviously been awhile since Silas had worn ordinary clothes, Sennett thought with amusement as she picked up her purse to go shopping.

She glanced at the clock. It was 9am, so she would have to phone in to the office and say she wouldn't be in today.

Suddenly Sennett remembered that she hadn't taken Silas' shoe size. She tip-toed over to the couch and checked the underneath of his sandal. It was a 45. It was then she noticed the blood on his foot and ankle. She made a mental note to clean off the blood when she got home, assuming it was from one of the bullet wounds. Quickly she threw the blanket over him again and went out; leaving the spare key on a table by the door in case he needed it.

It didn't take Sennett long to pick out some jeans, shirts and pullovers. She chose pullovers with hoods. She had a feeling Silas liked to cover his pale hair to avoid stares and without his cowl, may be self-conscious. She also picked up other necessities like underwear, socks, pajamas, shaving paraphernalia, deodorant, shampoo, a hairbrush and a toothbrush. She wasn't sure what shoes to buy but running shoes seemed the most sensible with jeans.

Sennett also did some grocery shopping so there would be enough food for two for the rest of the week. She assumed that he wouldn't be going anywhere with those bullet wounds.

She stopped for coffee before going back to the flat and as she drank it, she went over in her mind the monk's extraordinary story.

She was frankly surprised he had been so open but then again, there was a certain naivety about him. She wondered if he had been honest so that she could make her own choices about whether or not to keep him there. After all, she now knew she was harbouring a wanted man. She could never accuse him of lying by omission about it.

Or perhaps he had just been taught not to lie when asked a direct question. She knew that he would have to go to confession if he lied.

Sennett had been brought up Catholic, having spent 12 years in convent schools. If the circumstances of her family life had been different, perhaps she would have joined an Order just like Silas had. The idea of a cloistered life appealed to her in some ways; fewer choices meant fewer complications. On the other hand, she very much enjoyed her freedom to live as she chose, so perhaps it was just as well that God had not called her to that life.

If she had been however, would she have come so under the thrall of one of her superiors that she would have killed at their direction? Would she have become so isolated from the world and so single-minded that breaking one of the Ten Commandments would have seemed acceptable in certain circumstances?

She couldn't answer that question. She didn't know. She had never walked in those shoes.

One thing she did know for sure, she never would have become mixed up in Opus Dei. It was a secretive organization and she didn't understand the need for secrecy in the Church. Other than the fact it was mysterious, she didn't know much about it at all but that alone would have been enough to keep her away from it.

Having seen what had happened to Silas under the directives of the head of Opus Dei himself, Sennett believed her vague antipathy to the organisation had been justified.

It didn't occur to Sennett to doubt Silas' story. He didn't strike Sennett as someone who would be a very good liar. In some ways, his emotions were as transparent as his skin. Although he had killed so many, Sennett tended to view Silas as more of a victim of manipulative men in a corrupt environment than a blood-thirsty maniac.

Sennett got back to the flat in the early afternoon to find Silas still knocked out by the drugs. She quietly unpacked the groceries and put the clothes and toiletries she had bought into the spare room. Then she quickly made up the spare bed and opened the window to air the room. Her own room was on the other side of the flat, so she felt sure he would feel he had enough privacy.

Once everything was ready, she took a basin of warm water over to where Silas was sleeping and gently slipped off his sandals. The one was in pretty bad shape and would have to be thrown out. No amount of cleaning would get rid of the blood entirely.

She quickly washed the blood off his foot and ankle but then noticed the blood actually continued up his shin. Carefully she pushed back the hem of his robe to the knee and washed the blood off but it was obvious it was coming from a wound higher up his leg. Could he possibly have been shot in the leg and the doctor missed it, she wondered anxiously?

Cautiously she raised the hem inch by inch until halfway up his pale thigh, she saw a glint of metal. What she saw nearly made her throw up.

Buried in the pale flesh was a circlet of metal rings that was held on with a leather buckle. Each ring had small spikes that were digging deep into his skin. The spikes were so vicious, that he had bleed considerably from each small wound.

Sennett stood up and nearly stumbled as she sat down in a nearby chair. She buried her face in her hands until the nausea passed over.

She was surprised at herself, how deeply shocked she felt. It was like stepping back in time to a more brutal era - a Dark Age. She felt like she had suddenly fallen down a worm hole or entered an alternate universe where sick practices were still rife.

It was so foreign to her and such a shock to realize that people in her own Church still used these disciplines that it felt like the world was standing on its head.

It took a full fifteen minutes for Sennett to calm down enough to go back to Silas' bloody leg. Picking up the wash cloth, she finished cleaning off the blood around the strange metal device. Carefully she unbuckled it and the ends fell apart immediately, having been buckled so tightly. Gently she eased the spikes away from his skin, millimetre by painful millimetre. The drugs the doctor had given Silas were obviously powerful ones as he didn't even stir.

Finally it was off completely. Taking the hideous thing with her, she fetched some disinfectant to clean the wounds. The antibiotics he was on for the bullet wounds would stop infection.

Once the leg was cleaned off and disinfected totally, Sennett took the nasty metal thing outside to the bin. Silas would never use it again, at least not in her house. The garbage collectors would take it that night.

As she had disinfected the wounds, she had noticed identical and half-healed marks on Silas' other leg. He obviously used the horrible thing often and swapped it from leg to leg. The old wounds were clean, however and would heal quickly if given a chance to.

She made herself a cup of tea to calm down and sipped it watching Silas' sleeping face. Even asleep, he looked troubled. He was frowning and the skin on his face was pulled tight with tension. His mouth was turned down and deep lines ran from his nose to the corners of his mouth, etched by pain.

Self-torture was something that Sennett could not understand. She could see no purpose for it, no benefit that could come from it. Masochism of any kind was sick and when mixed up with religious practice was even more so, in her opinion. Hurting oneself would not add to Christ's completed work of salvation - the idea was ludicrous. So why do it? If it was about self-discipline, there was something about it that reeked of spiritual pride to Sennett.

Did Silas' precious Bishop and 'Teacher' tell Silas to hurt himself like this as well as to murder others? What kind of spiritual guidance had they been giving him? They seemed to want to doom Silas to hell on Earth as well as after death. What had Silas done to either of them that made them so careless of Silas' welfare and so vicious in their demands of him?

Sennett was angry. Injustice made her angry. Lies made her angry. Seeing someone who was searching for God be so abused and used by those who were charged to help him and others like him made Sennett livid.

Where did Silas' profound vulnerability to corrupt men like these lie? What was it about his past that made him the puppet of others? Why was Silas so needy as to give so much loyalty and trust blindly into these men's hands? What was it in Silas that made him able to obey without question even to the point of murder? What made him obey even orders to hurt himself – something that cut across every human instinct for self-preservation?

There was no doubt that Silas was a mystery.

When Silas woke, the sun was going down. It felt strange to have lost nearly a whole day; in fact, nearly two whole days. He didn't move at first. He felt very comfortable. In fact, he felt so good that he began to wonder what was wrong. Had he died, he wondered? If so, why was he still in that woman's flat? What was her name - it was a strange one… _Sennett._

No, he was sure he was still alive but why did he feel so good? He felt groggy still, so he couldn't think too fast. He lay there drifting in and out of a half sleep, enjoying the unusual feeling of peace and comfort.

Eventually, the answer came to him like a bolt out of the blue. He felt so good because he was not in any pain. He could not remember the last time he had been without some kind of physical discomfort. He was usually hurting from the wounds of the cilice and the discipline. On top of that, he was often hungry from fasting and cold from not wearing enough warm clothes. To be warm, well fed and pain free was a new and strange sensation to him. Even before he joined the Order, he was often cold and hungry and in pain from being on the streets or in jail.

He felt vaguely that this was somehow wrong but the drugs kept him groggy enough not to fight the comfort of it. He was starting to get hungry though when he heard Sennett's footsteps coming into the lounge room.

"Are you hungry? Would you like some dinner?" she asked, coming over to stand beside him and smiling down at him.

He managed to nod. He didn't want to move too much in case it ruined the lovely feeling of being completely comfortable.

"Are you allowed to eat meat?" she asked considerately.

"Not on Fridays," he said, frowning at the effort of thinking.

"Today is still Monday, so I think we will have a nice Irish stew to build up your blood stocks again," she said, walking towards the kitchen.

Silas' stomach growled at the thought but he still didn't want to move. He drifted in and out of half sleep as he listened to Sennett cooking. She had left juice on the table for him, obviously in case he woke up. He would have liked a glass but he still didn't want to move. There would be time for juice later.

When the food was ready, she helped him get up and walk the few paces over to the small table. He sat down gingerly, waiting for the pain to come back but it didn't. He said grace and they ate in companionable silence. Silas appreciated Sennett's ability to keep silence without tension. He wasn't in much of a fit state to make conversation even if he had been any good at it which he wasn't anyway.

He found he was very hungry and was able to eat a large portion of the stew and mashed potato.

"Diggory or Sophie will be here in about an hour to change your dressings," Sennett said, "If you want to shower and put on some of your new clothes, you're probably better off doing so before the new dressings go on."

Silas looked alarmed and Sennett guessed the reason immediately.

"There is a lock on the bathroom door, Silas. I won't barge in on you by accident," she reassured him with a laugh.

He relaxed slightly after absorbing this piece of information. He had no desire for anyone to see the scars on his back even my accident.

"Your room is just through that doorway there and the bathroom is opposite. I have my own ensuite off my bedroom, so you can spread yourself out in the bathroom as much as you like," Sennett said kindly.

Silas still looked anxious. "Where is your bedroom?" he asked in a low voice.

"Through that doorway," she said, pointing to the opposite side of the flat.

Silas relaxed. He would have as much privacy as he wanted.

Silas examined Sennett closely. Once upon a time, in a whole other part of his life, Sennett would have been the kind of woman that Silas would have been very attracted to. She would have been just his type – dark and small and fine-featured and pretty – his physical opposite. He had never had much luck with girlfriends, so it was just as well he found his calling to a life of celibacy within the Church fairly early in life. It had been so long since he had allowed himself to see women in that light that he had almost forgotten how. Now he could look at an attractive woman like Sennett quite dispassionately and see who she really was without all the distractions of physical attraction.

"You're very kind," he said seriously.

Sennett examined his face quickly and realized he was saying it as a real observation, not as an off-hand way of saying thank you or as a form of light social flattery.

"Thank you," she said, just as gravely.

"I will shower now so I am ready for your friends when they come," he said after a moment.

Sennett simply nodded and began clearing the table.

When Silas went through to the room Sennett had prepared for him, he realized how much she had done to make him comfortable and see to his needs. He had all the clothes he would need for the time being, exactly the toiletries he needed and a freshly made up bed.

He supposed the pajamas would be the easiest for the doctor in terms of getting to the wounds. Sennett had provided a dressing gown and slippers too. Was there anything she hadn't thought of?

It wasn't until he was in the bathroom with the door firmly locked that he took off his bloodied robe and suddenly understood why he had felt so comfortable. His cilice was gone.

Silas didn't know what to do. He had not been without his cilice for so long that it felt like a part of him. Did he get dressed again and go out to confront Sennett about taking it or did he just ignore the issue completely so he never had to try and explain it to her? Confronting Sennett would probably not get his cilice back but then he had to try and cope without it. Penance was a part of his life. How could he atone for his sins without it? Surely, she had put his soul in jeopardy. On the other hand, if he did confront her he would have to try and explain why he needed it. Very few people within Opus Dei used it and certainly not to the extent that he did. Outside Opus Dei, he knew the practice was not understood or accepted.

In the end, the anxiety of being without it won. He pulled on his new dressing gown.

Sennett thought he looked rather mad when he came out of the bathroom wearing just his robe with his white hair sticking up all over his head. His pale eyes were blazing with a furious passion that Sennett may have found frightening in a different situation.

"Where is my cilice? Where have you put it?" he asked wildly, anxiety making his voice sound harsh.

"Your _what?_" Sennett asked.

"My cilice! It was around my leg and now it's gone," he said frantically.

"That horrible self-torture device?" Sennett asked bluntly.

Silas suddenly went very still and the blue fire died out of his eyes. "Self-torture?" he repeated dazedly, his pale brows drawing together.

"Yes, self-torture! It's a horrible, nasty, sick thing. I don't know who told you that you had to hurt yourself like that but its sick! I threw it in the garbage and it's been taken away," Sennett said angrily.

"You think it's self-torture and sick?" Silas asked faintly, his head spinning a bit. He had been using it for so long that he no longer questioned it. Her reaction was a huge shock. He knew that it was generally rejected by others but he had never heard anyone call it 'self-torture' or 'sick'.

"It's not self-torture," he said weakly, "Its penance and atonement for my sins. It allows me to participate in my Lord's suffering."

"Its spiritual pride, nothing more," Sennett said flatly, "Jesus died as atonement for your sins. Are you saying His sacrifice isn't enough to atone for your sins? Are your sins so special that not even the death of the Son of God can atone for them? It's like walking up to the dying Christ and spitting in His face and saying, 'Your sacrifice isn't perfect enough – I must atone for my own sins!' Jesus died so that you don't have to suffer in that way to have a relationship with God - so you can be free. Are you going to throw His gift back in His face?" she said furiously.

To Silas, she sounded like some Old Testament prophet. Her dark eyes were burning and her small frame exuded an authority that something deep down in Silas' spirit immediately recognized.

Silas still felt dizzy. Was what she said true? Had he been insulting his Saviour all this time by using the cilice and discipline? Had he been saying to Christ that His sacrifice on the cross wasn't perfect enough to atone for him – for his sins to be forgiven?

Silas suddenly felt sick. He stumbled backwards and almost fell into a chair. His hands were shaking so badly that he had to clench them.

"I never… I never thought to denigrate Christ's sacrifice or say it wasn't perfect," he whispered, more to himself than Sennett. "I wanted to do what was right. I thought it was right. I wanted to pay for my sins."

"They're already paid for," Sennett said, suddenly calm again when she saw his genuine shock, "They were paid for over 2,000 years ago. All you need to do is repent. But that means you can't kill again, Silas – no matter who tells you to."

Silas shook his head violently. "No! No, I will never kill again. I don't care who tells me to. I will never kill again," he said fervently. Sennett believed him.

"Go and finish your shower Silas," Sennett said gently, "Everything is going to be okay."


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

_Why have you repaid evil for good?_

_Genesis 44:4_

It was a strange thought to never have to use the cilice or discipline again, Silas thought, tracing the scars on his thighs with one finger while in the shower. He never had to be in pain all the time ever again. He was too afraid to use them again now, after Sennett had told him they were an insult to Christ. Just the thought of it made him go hot and cold with shame and horror.

There were times he despaired of ever understanding what it was that God wanted of him. He had been told so many things by Opus Dei and slowly, doubt was creeping into his mind. Could it really be God's will to kill _anybody_ for _any_ reason? He had read the Bible many times and it was clear murder was a sin. But then, Bishop Aringarosa had said it was the right thing to do to protect the Church. Who was lying - the Bishop or the Bible? The authority of the Word of God was unquestionable, it had to be the Bishop and if it was the Bishop, then the one friend he thought he had found in life was no real friend at all. He had been duped and used. His immortal soul had been put in peril to serve the ends of man, not God's purpose at all. It was no friend who would endanger your soul like that but the very worst kind of devil.

He wasn't a messenger of God, he was just a dupe. Silas bowed his head and shoulders in grief. Being a messenger of God had been his whole identity. Without that purpose, who was he?

It was then the tears came because it was then that Silas realized just how alone he was in the world and how alone he had always been.

Was there not one human being who would treat him like one? Not one human being who wouldn't either reject or fool him? Not one who would be a real friend, caring about what was best for him rather than pursuing selfish aims that would hurt him?

It was also then that Silas realized how fragile faith was. He was tempted to chuck the whole thing in – the Church, his numerary promises and even God Himself. Why try and serve God in such a corrupt world?

He quickly realized that the thought of losing God was too much to bear. If he lost God, he lost absolutely everything. Without God, there was only darkness. The thought was so lonely that it nearly crushed him.

When he came out of the shower in his new pajamas, he went and sat in the room that Sennett had prepared for him. Everything was different - everything had changed in just a day. He was even wearing clothes that he had not worn for years. He didn't feel like himself. He had no familiar points of reference, not even his old companion pain. He had doubts about everything in his old life – Opus Dei and Bishop Aringarosa and the Church itself. Was what they had told him about God true? If not, which parts were true and which were a lie? Silas felt like he had to start his search for God all over again. He wasn't sure who God was anymore where once, he had been so sure. He had no idea where or how to start.

Suddenly there was a knock on his door and the doctor came into his room with a friendly smile.

"You'll have to take your pajama top off so I can get to the dressings," he said matter-of-factly.

Silas immediately felt anxious and his eyes went to the door, as if to see if Sennett or Sophie were nearby. He didn't really want anybody to see the scars on his back.

"We'll just close the door, shall we?" Diggory said kindly, immediately recognizing the source of Silas' anxiety. Most of his patients were self-conscious when they had to strip off.

Slowly Silas peeled off his top and lowered his eyes, waiting for the inevitable questions.

Diggory dealt with the entry wounds on the front of Silas' torso, deftly changing the dressings for fresh ones. When he walked around to Silas' back, Silas heard the swiftly indrawn breath.

"What happened to you?" Diggory asked softly, after a moment. He deliberately kept his voice soothing although he was deeply shocked.

It reminded Silas of Sennett's question last night – _what happened to you? _Like he was the victim and not those he had murdered.

"It's the discipline. I am… was… an Opus Dei numerary," Silas replied in a low voice, tensed for the next question.

"Opus Dei," Diggory said musingly, "a Catholic organization?" he asked.

"Yes," Silas replied.

"They still practice corporal mortification?" Diggory asked with calculated mildness, beginning to take the old dressings off.

"Only numeraries," Silas said in the same low voice.

"What are numeraries?" Diggory asked curiously as he worked.

"Celibate members of Opus Dei," Silas said. The questions weren't as bad as he had feared.

"There are members that aren't celibate?" Diggory asked.

"Yes, the super numeraries," Silas replied, "They have families. They are the biggest part of Opus Dei by far."

"Well, to be honest, as a doctor I'm not happy about the self-damage. Those scars are nasty. I would like to ask you not to use practice corporal mortification at least until your bullet wounds are fully healed. Of course, I would prefer it if you never used it again but I can't tell you how to practice your religion," Diggory said frankly.

"I won't do it anymore," Silas said in a low voice. He had already made the decision. Sennett's words had frightened and sickened him.

"Will the authorities at Opus Dei be happy about that?" Diggory asked, placing new dressings over the bullet exit wounds.

"I'm not returning to Opus Dei," Silas said in a voice so quiet that the doctor barely heard it.

"What are your plans?" Diggory asked, his voice purposely neutral.

"I'm not sure yet," Silas said, his shoulders slumping slightly. He hadn't even begun to tackle that particular question. He was not afraid of living rough on the streets; he had done it for a long time. He didn't really want to go back to that insecure life; it was so hard to break out of it. On the other hand, he couldn't go back to the Church. Not now.

"Concentrate on healing first," Diggory advised, finishing the new dressings.

He swabbed the worst of the fresher wounds on his back but the antibiotics were doing their job and they were healing well.

Silas took his medication before Diggory left him and was already drifting off to sleep again.

Diggory had a cup of tea with Sennett before he left.

"That young man is in a bad way, Sennett," Diggory said to her seriously, "He belonged to some kind of strange organization within the Church that practiced corporal mortification. His back is covered in horrible wounds.

Sennett stared at him, feeling sick. _It wasn't just that cilice thing, _she thought? _There was more?_

"I know he was a member of Opus Dei and that he wore some horrible, metal, spikey thing he called a cilice around his leg. I didn't know about the self-flagellation," she murmured and shivered.

"He said he had already decided not to practice it anymore, I'm not sure why. I didn't want to give him the third degree. I had already asked a lot of questions when I saw what a mess his back was," Diggory said, absorbing the information about the cilice.

"He's had a lot of shocks in the last day or two. I suspect his whole world had crumbled," Sennett said with a sigh.

"He doesn't seem to have any idea what to do next," the doctor told her.

"He should just heal first and then think about it," Sennett said.

"That's what I told him," Diggory agreed.

"He can stay here as long as he needs to. He's no trouble at all. He eats anything you give him and seems grateful for anything that is done for him. I don't think he's likely to become any kind of problem," Sennett said.

"You don't mind having your flat invaded by a stranger?" he asked kindly.

"I feel very sorry for Silas although I can't really explain why. He's done some terrible things but I suspect he's had many terrible things done to him. I think he's been very brain-washed, and been manipulated by people he trusted and needed," Sennett said with a frown, "I can't explain to you why I trust him but I do. In some ways, he's like a child and in others, he seems very old."

"Like someone who never got the chance to develop into a healthy adult but has suffered too much?" Diggory said, catching on quickly.

"Exactly," Sennett said nodding seriously.

"People like that are unpredictable," Diggory said warningly.

"Show me a human being who isn't," Sennett replied wryly.

"Well, I'd better get back to Sophie. The kids have probably ripped the flat apart by now," Diggory said with a grin.

"Thanks for helping Silas like this. Let me know how much the medication is so I can reimburse you," Sennett said.

"Oh, I get that stuff free as samples from pharmaceutical companies," Diggory said with a grin, "Doesn't cost me a cent. Besides that, I'm intrigued by Silas more and more as time goes on. I'd be interested to learn more of his story."

"I don't think it will be a happy one," Sennett said sadly as she waved him off.

The next morning Silas woke up feeling groggy from the drugs once more. He shaved his two day growth (barely visible, it was so pale) and then slowly got dressed in the new clothes Sennett had provided. He felt strange wearing trousers of any kind again. He liked the hood on the pull-over though and pulled it forward over his colourless hair immediately.

He was hungry and wandered tentatively out of his room in search of food. He found Sennett dressed in office clothes at the small table.

"Good morning, Silas. You're beginning to look a bit better now," she said, "Do you want some muesli with warm milk?"

Silas nodded and Sennett fetched him a bowl and spoon while she heated up the milk in the microwave.

"You'll have to tell me what kinds of foods you like and dislike," she said, pushing the box of cereal towards him as she sat down.

Silas stared at her uncomprehendingly. He had no idea what she meant. He had always just eaten what was put in front of him or what he could scavenge. Opus Dei numeraries were not meant to be picky about their food. Those living on the streets or in jail couldn't afford to be picky either.

Finally he shook his head and shrugged, to indicate his confusion. "I don't know what you mean. I just eat what I am given," he said in his grating voice.

"Really? Well that makes things simple," Sennett said with an amused grin, "I have to go in to work today, so I've left a key near the front door in case you want to go out. Otherwise, there is plenty of food in the flat. Just help yourself to whatever you want. Feel free to watch TV or listen to music or whatever. Just don't move around too much, okay? Those bullet wounds will need to be kept still in order to heal."

Silas nodded, his odd eyes on his cereal bowl. To have so much freedom was strange to him. He was used to having every minute of his life controlled – when he got up and when he went to bed, when he ate, when he prayed, when he worked and when he rested. It had been a long time since he had not had strict regimentation in his life. He felt lost without the discipline of it. Once again, he felt at sea without any familiar reference points to guide him.

"Don't forget to take your antibiotics. You don't want to end up in hospital with an infection," she added, getting up to take her things through to the kitchen. She picked up her bag and went back to the table. "Are you okay? Do you need anything? Would you like me to pick up anything for you today?" she asked.

Silas raised his eyes from his cereal long enough to shake his head, "No, thank you."

"Okay, see you this evening. Your antibiotics are on the coffee table," she added as she left.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

_The people of this world cannot accept the Spirit, because they don't see or know him. But you know the Spirit, who is with you and will keep on living in you._

_John 14:17 _

Silas finished his cereal mechanically, not really tasting it. He made himself some tea with milk and fetched the two containers of pills on the coffee table. Not really looking at them, he took one of each. He really did not want to go to hospital for any reason.

He took his dishes through to the kitchen and conscientiously put them in the dishwasher; Opus Dei had taught him cleanliness. Then he went back to his bedroom, he needed to pray.

When he knelt down, he found words would not come. He knew he could pray any number of prayers he had been taught by rote but still the words would not come. He didn't understand it. He was not angry with God. He sought forgiveness – but the words would not come. He felt numb. His mind felt numb.

Silas didn't know it but he was in shock. It was not a lack of faith that made him unable to pray but simply being in a suspended emotional state after trauma.

Finally Silas got up and lay on the bed that he had scrupulously made that morning. He didn't know what to do. He couldn't think. Before long, the drugs took effect and he felt sleepy.

As he drifted off, he examined the strange feeling of having another person consider his wishes and preferences. On the street, no-one gave a damn whether he lived or died. In jail, the rules were simple – survival of the fittest and most vicious. In Opus Dei, the rules were complex but clear. In every part of his life, his own wishes were irrelevant. What to eat, what to wear, where to live, what to do with your time – these things were either dictated by necessity or by someone else. Choice was a strange new luxury to Silas. He didn't know what to do with it. Having someone want to give him choices was even more alien. If anyone was interested in him at all, it was usually to tell him what to do.

Opus Dei was probably the only environment where anyone had been interested in him and the person mostly interested was Bishop Aringarosa. But even Opus Dei and the Bishop controlled every aspect of his life. They told him when to sleep, what to eat, how to pray, who to obey and trust, how to behave, what to wear and even what to think. Even this thoughts and feelings were not his own, they had to line up with Opus Dei's beliefs and views in every small particular. He was not allowed to question anything and he had accepted it because it was the first time since his mother died that anyone had paid any kind of attention to him at all or given him a place to belong.

Opus Dei had even told him who was an enemy and who to kill.

Silas curled himself into a ball on his side. Opus Dei had extracted a heavy price from him for their attention and providing a place for him to belong.

The strange thing about Sennett and Diggory and Sophie was that they hadn't asked anything from him other than he take his medicine which was for his own good anyway. They hadn't set rules for him, they hadn't locked him in (he had a key to Sennett's flat which astounded him), they hadn't made him make any promises, they hadn't asked him to work for his keep and they hadn't asked him to do anything difficult or unpleasant.

On the contrary, they had given him medical care, shelter, food, clothing, freedom to come and go, privacy, space and their trust. They had not asked him a lot of unkind questions or acted suspicious despite the terrible things he had done.

He had been here less than 48 hours and he already knew he was in the best place he had ever been in. It could not last. Sooner or later, when the wounds were better, he would have to make his own way. He would be on his own again without a place to belong. He could not rely on their kindness for too long.

Silas fell asleep with tears on his white face.

He woke up again as the sun was going down. He was cold. He should have put a blanket over himself when he lay down. Then again, he was used to sleeping on the floor once a week without any coverings. It was yet another mortification Opus Dei had required. So being cold was not a foreign experience.

He was hungry again, so he got up and stretched. Sennett said he was to help himself to food when he got hungry. Perhaps he could make a sandwich and some tea.

Sennett was not back from work yet. He quickly and neatly made himself a cheese sandwich and took it with some tea back to the lounge. He was used to quiet surroundings but the quiet in someone else's house unnerved him a bit. He turned on the TV for some company and out of curiousity. He couldn't remember the last time he had been allowed to watch TV.

Silas' chewing slowed to a halt as he watched a chat show. His pale eyes were wide with shock. People were discussing the most intimate details of their lives quite openly; others in the audience were booing or shouting in the most rude and vulgar manner. He could not remember ever seeing shows like this in the days when he was still allowed to watch TV before becoming a numerary. Of course, that was a good ten years ago now. TV had obviously changed a lot since that time.

Silas stared open-mouthed as a large African-American man talked about how his wife (an attractive young woman sitting beside him) had had a fantasy about him having an affair. Now she suspected his girlfriend was pregnant. If she was, his wife was going to leave him. The husband started crying.

"You know, I think that's just too much information about their relationship – don't you think so, audience?" the grey-haired lady host was saying. The audience seemed to agree.

Silas thought it was the understatement of the centuary. He felt hot and cold with embarrassment. Were there really people who lived like this? Why didn't they know any better? Did they have no shame about their sins that they went on TV and talked about them so openly? How did they get to the point where they thought this kind of life was somehow normal or acceptable? And what kind of woman would have a fantasy about her husband being unfaithful? What kind of inner sickness did that arise out of? Silas' mind was boggling.

Was the world really like this? Had it become so bad? Or had it always been this bad but now people were more open about their sinfulness and less repentant?

Silas felt ill. In one rapid motion, he got up and turned off the TV. He stared at his half eaten sandwich in blind horror.

It was not as though he himself was some kind in ingénue, Silas thought honestly. He had lived on the streets. He had been in jail. He had lost his innocence early. He had had some sexual relationships before joining Opus Dei. All of them had been disastrous and short lived but then again, his whole life before Opus Dei had been disastrous. Women were more often than not put off by his albino looks. He had felt like a freak. As a result, he had gradually withdrawn from women and relationships even before he had found God and Opus Dei. He had gotten tired of rejection. He'd had too much of it in his life. Being celibate had been somewhat of a relief; relationships were a problem he no longer had to face.

Silas began to realize just how sheltered his life had been for the past ten years in Opus Dei. He had grown unused to the world. Would he ever grow used to it again? He wasn't sure he wanted to if he was going to be subjected to the degree of sickness he had just seen in the talk show on a regular basis.

Just then he heard a key in the door and Sennett came in. Something about Silas' attitude, the expression on his face and the half-eaten sandwich seemed to tell her the complete story in half a second.

"You didn't try and watch TV, did you?" she asked with some amusement, coming into the lounge.

Silas simply nodded. The repugnance had not yet completely faded from his face.

"Rather a shock, was it?" she asked and tried to suppress a laugh. He really did look quite stunned.

Silas looked up at her briefly and then back to the blank screen in front of him and then shook his head. He was speechless. He didn't know what to say.

"Life outside of Opus Dei will take some getting used to," Sennett said kindly, "I don't know how long you were a numerary but I imagine the world has changed a fair bit in that time. The media is a lot more 'in your face' these days. They get their ratings using shock value a lot of the time. As time goes on, they need to be more and more shocking to maintain their audiences."

"Where does it end?" Silas asked in a hoarse voice, his pale eyes still wide with revulsion.

"I don't know," Sennett said, shaking her head. After a pause, she added, "Finish your sandwich if you can. Dinner won't be for more than an hour."

Silas had something that he wanted to ask Sennett but he didn't know how to bring it up. She had cooked shepherd's pie for dinner ('more red meat to build up your red cell count') and it tasted good but he picked at it, searching for a way to ask.

"Spit it out," Sennett said finally.

Silas looked up startled. Did she mean the shepherd's pie? Was something wrong with it? He felt rude just spitting out his food.

"Not the pie, whatever it is that's bothering you," Sennett said, smiling broadly at his confusion.

He looked at her quizzically.

Sennett sighed quietly. Sometimes Sennett felt like she was speaking some language other than English to Silas. Perhaps she should try Latin?

"Tell me what is bugging you. Obviously something is. You usually have a healthy appetite," Sennett explained patiently.

Silas cleared his throat nervously. How come this woman could read him like a book at times? He didn't really like it.

"Do you remember last night when we were talking about my cilice?" he said in a low voice.

Sennett's face expressed all that she thought on that subject. "Yes," she said encouragingly.

"You seemed to have… I don't know how to explain it… a kind of authority. I recognized it immediately," Silas said hesitantly.

Sennett was suddenly very still and she looked at Silas out of narrowed, assessing eyes. He was the first person she had ever met who had even come close to the truth about what she was.

"I spent twelve years in convent schools, Silas. I had a very good Catholic education. My religious instruction was very thorough," she said quietly, hoping that explanation would satisfy him.

Silas pondered this information. It sounded like she had had a very sheltered upbringing. To him, it sounded idealistic. He could not imagine any better start in life. He felt envy burning in his gut but tried to squash it. Envy was one of the seven deadly sins.

Still, there was something more. It wasn't just a good education that gave her that kind of authority. He shook his head, "It's more than that," he said simply.

Sennett was silent for a few moments. How the hell did she explain it all to him? It was impossible. If God wanted Silas to know, perhaps He would reveal it to Silas in time without her explanations. Goodness only knows, Silas had already picked up on more than anyone else she had ever known.

"You're not the only one with secrets, Silas," Sennett said finally.

Silas frowned. "You can't tell me?" he asked. He was used to people keeping secrets from him. He understood secrets.

"It's not that I don't want to but that it would be very hard to explain. I could tell you but you wouldn't necessarily understand and it may sound… _weird_," Sennett said with difficulty.

Silas thought about this some more as he ate. "You're very pretty," Silas said finally, out of the blue.

Sennett raised her dark eyebrows in surprise. She was amazed he had even noticed she was female.

"Thank you," she said simply. She had been told this quite a few times before so it wasn't startling to hear apart from the fact that it was Silas who had said it.

"I mean, you're pretty enough to be married by now. Why aren't you? Do you have a boyfriend?" Silas asked curiously.

Sennett couldn't help it, she laughed out loud. He was so earnest and so blunt. In some ways, he was childlike in his honesty.

"No, I'm celibate by choice too Silas," Sennett replied calmly.

That was news to Silas. "Why? You're not a sister or a numerary assistant, are you?" Silas asked with real alarm. He could feel his heart begin to pound. Was he in enemy territory after all?

"No," Sennett replied evenly. "I'm not attached to the Catholic Church officially or unofficially."

Silas calmed down. He was still safe. "Then why the celibacy?" he asked, frowning.

Sennett sighed. Another difficult question to answer both honestly and clearly.

"I suppose I never met anyone with the same set of values as myself who I was attracted to in that way," Sennett said truthfully.

Silas absorbed this information in silence. He had never heard of anyone outside of the authority of the Church having a celibate life. With that explanation however, Silas had to be content. He had a million other questions but Sennett seemed to have withdrawn. He found it hard enough to start conversations at the best of times, so her withdrawal conquered his curiousity for the time being.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

_Therefore my heart is glad, and my glory rejoices; My flesh also will rest in hope._

_Psalm 16:9_

Silas was sleeping soundly after the doctor had been to change his dressings again when he suddenly woke up. He was used to not sleeping very well. His old companions had been pain, hunger and cold; they did not lend themselves to deep sleep. He could not remember the last time he had slept as deeply as he had in Sennett's flat. Silas was not aware it was a side effect of the pain killers.

He wasn't sure immediately why he had woken up so suddenly and so thoroughly until he saw the light coming in under the door. It wasn't very bright.

He glanced at the small clock on the bedside table. It said 2.30am. What on Earth was Sennett doing awake at this time? Was she sick or could this be a clue to the mystery that she couldn't explain to him?

Silas got out of bed as silent and stealthy as a panther. He was used to stalking others. He was used to sneaking into places he was not supposed to be without being heard or noticed by anybody - except the person he had been sent to murder, of course.

Carefully he turned the door handle without allowing it to make a grating sound. Slowly he eased the door open without making it to creak. He pressed one pale eye to the small crack he had made and looked out.

Sure enough, Sennett was in the lounge with a small lamp on. She had her back to him and was alone. He observed that she was in a long nightgown, her hair hanging on her shoulders. Obviously she had been to bed at some point but had gotten up again. She wasn't going out because she wasn't dressed for it. All this information flashed through Silas' mind in half a second. He was used to assessing situations quickly.

She was walking slowly up and down, almost pacing but without the agitation. Her arms were clasped around her torso and her head was bent. She was speaking but in a soft voice, Silas couldn't quite catch what it was. It didn't sound like a conversation, it actually sounded like a prayer or perhaps a chant.

If Silas had been in a House of Opus Dei or a monastery, he would have assumed that she was praying. It was not unknown for monks and numeraries to pray during the night. This was not a House of Opus Dei or a monastery, however. He couldn't decide what she was doing.

As he opened the door a little more, she turned slightly so that he could see her almost in profile. Her dark brows were furrowed. Her lips moved as her soft voice rose and fell.

"You can come in if you want to Silas," Sennett said suddenly in a clear voice. Immediately she went back to whatever she was saying in her low tones.

Silas jumped. How did she know he was there when she wasn't even facing him? Reluctantly, he gathered his nightgown and went out to join her.

"Are you alright?" he asked hesitantly in his grating tones, "Has someone died?"

"I don't know yet," she said frankly and without missing a beat, went back to her muttering.

Silas was confounded by her reply. He listened carefully. She was definitely praying and she was praying in Latin. He was able to understand it. The prayers were very old ones. He was sure part of it was the Mozarabic Rite. He hadn't even suspected that Sennett knew Latin too. It was a rare language to know amongst the laity.

"What time is it?" she said suddenly in English.

"About 2.30am," he replied, slightly startled by the question.

"Make a note of that," she said with that same authority that he recognized from before, "We need to turn on a news channel."

"Why?" he asked with confusion but she was back to her Latin prayers. Obediently he went to the TV and flicked through channels until he found some news. He left it on with the volume turned down low.

The minutes ticked by as Sennett prayed and Silas translated the Latin to himself until it was around 3am. Suddenly Sennett turned towards the TV and frowned at the screen. She went over and turned up the volume.

"Only half an hour ago, more than 60 people were killed in Israel by a bombing near the West Bank. Initial reports suggest that the group responsible for the bombing were a small terrorist cell based in Karbala," the news reader was saying.

Sennett went slowly over and knelt by the TV and put her hand on the screen as images of the West Bank flickered across it.

"It's always Israel," Sennett said to herself, "Anything that hurts Israel hurts God."

"It happened just around the time you started praying," Silas said glancing at the clock, feeling deeply shocked. He was frightened now. "How did you know something was going to happen?" he asked hoarsely.

"I didn't," Sennett said, "Not the details at any rate. I knew something was happening but I wasn't even sure it would be reported on the news."

"But _how_? How did you know _anything _was going to happen?" he demanded, his pale eyes staring at her wildly and looking oddly translucent in the half light.

"How did anyone in the Bible know things were going to happen before they did? How did Jeremiah know Israel's fate? How did Daniel interpret the King's dreams? How did Nathan advise King David? How did Isaiah paint such an accurate picture of Jesus' life so many centuaries before He was born?" Sennett said with the shrug, thereby confusing the issue further for Silas.

Silas examined her silently for a long time as she watched the TV reports. He didn't know what to make of any of it. It was all too strange and too far outside his experience. The idea that God could operate today the way he had in the times of the Early Church deeply excited him. It filled him with hope and expectation – something he couldn't remember ever feeling before in his whole life. On the other hand, it frightened him too. God moving in this way was something beyond his ability to understand, so much bigger than himself, so irrepressible and capricious. Was it true? Could it be true?

"What are you?" he finally asked in his deep voice, his pale brows drawn together.

"You'll have to decide that for yourself," Sennett said, getting up. "I don't have those answers myself. I'm going back to bed."

Silas watched her leave but then stayed awake for a long time, watching the flickering images on the TV screen. He felt pulled apart between the exhilaration of wild hope and the fear of a God who could be too close for comfort.

The next morning he found Sennett dressed for work at the breakfast table again.

"By the way, I forgot to give you these last night," Sennett said and pulled a shopping bag from one of the spare chairs.

She passed him a Good News Bible, a small crucifix on a stand for his bedside table and then a beautiful ebony rosary.

"To help you pray," she said simply. "I figured you might be a bit lost without these."

"Thank you," Silas said quietly, carefully turning them over in his pale hands. He was very touched and deeply grateful. He had been missing these things without even realizing it yet. Reading the Bible and praying the rosary had been a part of his daily routine for a long time. He had missed his old crucifix too, "I don't know how to say thank you for everything you've done," he said honestly in a low voice.

"Just get well. God put you across my path for a purpose, I believe. We're yet to figure out what that is," she said musingly.

Silas frowned. "Do you think so?" he asked, as the thought occurred to him for the first time.

"Don't you think it's all been a little bit too neat for just coincidence?" Sennett asked him seriously.

Silas thought back over the parts of the last three days he could remember. It was not likely that he would have had his needs so well provided for by chance – his medical aid, the hiding place of Sennett's flat, the privacy he had been afforded to recover from the shock. In every way, his needs had been met. He had put it down to Sennett's kindness but what were the chances of him finding such a kind person in the cobbled back streets of Kensington?

"I think God has plans for you, my friend," Sennett said gravely, her dark eyes narrowed slightly as they rested on her unusual looking guest.

Silas looked at her wonderingly. Could she be right? Could God still be looking after him after all that he had done? Was this God's way of showing Silas that He still loved him? Expectation once again ignited in Silas' chest like a burst of warmth. It melted the frozen feeling around his heart. When was the last time he had really felt anticipation about life? He honestly couldn't remember.

"Have a good day. Help yourself to whatever you need. Don't forget your medicine," Sennett called as she headed for the door for work.


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

_Woe is me for my hurt! My wound is severe. But I say, "Truly this is an infirmity, and I must bear it."_

_Jeremiah 10:19_

Once again, Silas slept throughout the day. He knew Diggory would be back to sew up the wounds before the end of the week but moving around too much could make them start bleeding again. It was best to lie down. Besides, he always felt sleepy during the day at the moment. He put it down to the after-effects of shock.

When he woke up in the late afternoon, he felt strange. He was anxious and restless. He almost automatically reached for the discipline that was no longer there.

Why did he want to use the discipline when he now knew without any doubt that it was an insult to his Saviour? The drive to use it was so strong, it felt overwhelming.

To distract himself, he got up and made himself a sandwich. He was always hungry by late afternoon having slept through lunch time. He avoided the TV and went over to Sennett's bookshelves.

He found a whole shelf on linguistics and ancient languages. Another shelf was full of history texts; yet another shelf was full of books on Biblical archeology and anthropology. There were dozens of books of theology and a handful of books on the lives of certain Saints. There were also authors he didn't recognize because they were not Catholic – Dorothy Sayers, Joy Davidman, Philip Yancey and C S Lewis plus many others. Church history was another subject that took up a whole shelf by itself.

There was also fiction but most of it was classics obviously left over from Sennett's girlhood. Silas had never heard of Alice in Wonderland or the Wizard of Oz or Anne of Green Gables or Little Women. There were a lot of books by Enid Blyton and a whole series about a place called Narnia written by that C S Lewis theologian. There were quite a few adult books by Jane Austen and someone called Miss Read.

Silas' reading level had improved dramatically since joining Opus Dei. Being on the streets from the age of seven had meant his education had been neglected, to say the least. There were still huge gaps in it. There were still entire subjects he knew next to nothing about – history, science, the arts and higher maths for example. He had read a great deal of theology and been taught Latin in Opus Dei but other than that, he had never caught up. It had been enough of a challenge to bring his reading age up to adult level after so much neglect for so long.

Silas felt excited by the choice of books but intimidated too. Had Sennett read all these books? He had read a lot too in the past ten years at Opus Dei but nothing like what this book collection suggested.

Silas began to feel curious about Sennett's work. She was a celibate outside the authority of the Church who prayed in Latin and had an impressive collection of Christian books. That was all he knew about her. He had no idea where she went every day. He was beginning to wonder.

Sennett got home at her usual time.

"How are you feeling?" she called out to him as she came in.

He was hunched up on the couch with C S Lewis' 'Mere Christianity'. The title had made him curious and now he was hooked.

Silas frowned. He wasn't used to being asked how he was feeling. How was he feeling? Like he was suspended from real life for a short time was really the closest explanation.

"I feel well," he finally answered self-consciously.

"Good," she replied as she went through to her room to change.

They sat down to dinner an hour later.

"Where do you work?" he asked curiously as they ate.

"At Oxford University," Sennett replied without hesitation.

"What do you do?" he persisted.

"I work in the Arts Faculty. I'm working on some research projects and do some tutoring in linguistics and history," she explained.

"What degrees do you have?" he asked.

"I have a Bachelor of Arts majoring in Ancient History, Church History and Linguistics. Then I did my Masters degree in Medieval History, Ancient Texts and Theology. I'm finishing my Doctorate now, finally," she said, looking wry.

"What languages do you know?" Silas asked fascinated, his pale eyes fixed on her face.

"Mainly the ancient ones – Greek, Latin, Aramaic and Hebrew. I wanted to be able to read ancient texts in their original language," Sennett said.

"I learned Latin at Opus Dei but that's the only ancient language I know quite well," Silas said almost enviously, "I'd like to learn Greek and Aramaic and Hebrew too one day," he added wistfully.

"If you joined the right Order, you could," Sennett said off-handedly.

Silas lowered his eyes. "I don't think I can go back to the Church now," he said in a low voice.

"Depends on which part of the Church. It's very big you know, Silas. You couldn't go back to Opus Dei or any monastery with ties to it but would you want to?" Sennett said conversationally.

"No – but I thought the whole Church would reject me now," he said quietly, pushing his food around on his plate with a fork.

"There are enemies of Opus Dei within the Church," Sennett said frankly. "There are people within the Church who would protect you from Opus Dei if they knew your story. The Catholic Church is very diverse with a very broad range of views and opinions and ways of practicing the faith."

Silas looked up from his plate and stared at her with his strange eyes. Could it be true? His view of the Church had come to him solely through the lens of Opus Dei. He had assumed the whole Catholic Church was like them. They had never hinted that there was any other way to practice the faith other than theirs'. Could there still be a place within the Church for him somewhere, where he was safe from the tentacles of Opus Dei?

"Let me tell you something, Silas," Sennett said seriously, putting down her fork and looking at him directly, "Opus Dei is only a very, very small part of the Catholic Church. It represents a very extreme form of Catholicism, regardless of what their PR agents may say to try to make them sound more main stream. The majority of Catholics would find the Opus Dei way of practicing the Christian faith bizarre and unhealthy and rather suspicious. There are still a lot of options open to you if you still want to live the life of a Religious. If you want to be a monk, there are many Orders to choose from who have nothing to do with Opus Dei and whose way of life is nothing like that of an Opus Dei numerary. There are Orders where you can have a say in how you live within the community, where you can have a great deal of freedom, where you can choose which path you wish to follow in your work."

Silas listened with wide eyes. It sounded almost too good to be true. Surely there was more of a price to pay for the shelter of an Order? Opus Dei had always extracted such a heavy price from him in allowing him to belong there. Could there really be Orders where he could live a life of contemplation, prayer and work that he liked without suffering? Perhaps he would not have to go back to the streets after all.

"How are you coping without the discipline, Silas?" Sennett suddenly asked quietly, watching his reaction carefully.

Silas almost jumped. How had she known he had been anxious about it only that afternoon? He frowned and tried to say something but no words came out. How did he explain to her that he missed it? That he missed pain? It sounded really sick and sad. He didn't want to admit how fretful he felt without it.

"Let me show you something," Sennett said and pushed up the long sleeves of her top to the elbow. She reached over to the light on the wall and angled it right over the small table. Then she lay her forearms on the table, the inner arm right under the light. "Look closely," she said.

Silas leaned closer and examined the skin of her forearms.

"There are scars!" he said with a profound feeling of shock.

"From a razor blade," Sennett said bluntly, "I made them myself at 17."

Silas' mind reeled. The scars were very faint now but some of them had obviously been quite deep. Some of them ran the entire length of her arm.

"I know what its like to want to hurt yourself, Silas. It's been a long time since I've done it but I remember quite clearly the anxiety that used to drive me to it. It's a way of distracting yourself, isn't it? If your body is hurting enough than you don't have to think about how much you're hurting inside. In some ways, it's a relief. Sometimes, it feels like it's the only real relief you have from whatever is bothering you," Sennett quietly.

Silas' eyes were fixed on the vulnerable flesh of her inner forearms. It didn't matter how long he stared at it, he still found it hard to believe. Was it possible someone like Sennett really did understand? Was he really not the only person in the world who found relief in physical pain?

"It's a common problem, Silas. You're not alone. There are a lot of people who self injure in order to cope. What I can tell you for sure is that it's possible to get well, possible to stop and possible to find other ways of coping," she said.

"How did you know?" he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

"It takes one to know one, Silas," Sennett said flatly, "That's all it is."

"That's why you reacted the way you did," he said carefully as she pulled her sleeves back down.

"Yes and no. I still think that from the point of view of atonement, using corporal mortification is wrong and an insult to the Saviour. I think it's a sign of how far I've come that what you were doing to yourself did upset me so much. Once upon a time, I probably wouldn't have reacted much at all because I would have understood all too well," Sennett said honestly.

"I didn't know it wasn't just me. I thought I was the only one…" Silas said and then his voice trailed off as he realized that he wasn't so alone after all. He was silent for a few moments and then said, "I wouldn't have thought someone like you would need to do this to cope."

Sennett could see he was struggling for words.

"I mean, you're well-educated and pretty and successful. You came from a stable family.." he continued.

"Did I?" Sennett said ironically, "That's not true. There was a lot of abuse, neglect and violence in my home growing up. There was a lot of chaos and cruelty. It was not a safe place."

Silas looked at her in bewilderment. It sounded just like his family.

"Then how…?" he began.

"How did I end up at Oxford? Because I didn't run away; because I put up with it; because I knew running away would only make things worse and that it wasn't a solution; because I was lucky enough to have at least one responsible parent when it came to my education - even they were totally self-absorbed and neglectful in every other way. But I still suffered through that situation for years on end and I still wasn't coping and I still learned unhealthy ways of surviving," Sennett said candidly.

Silas absorbed all this in silence. He couldn't believe a woman who looked so perfect and unruffled on the surface could be hiding so much turmoil and confusion within. She was just like him or he was just like her, underneath all the surface differences.

"What memories and stress are you using self injury to help you cope with?" Sennett asked him but it was a rhetorical question. She obviously didn't expect an answer.

The real question, Silas thought, was what memories and stress was self injury _not_ helping him cope with? He didn't have any happy memories, they were all bad. Even Opus Dei now only held bad memories of betrayal and abuse of trust. The only way to escape the blackness in his mind was through physical pain or sleep.

Sennett was right. He needed to find a new way.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

_Now Joshua said to Achan, "My son, I beg you, give glory to the Lord God of Israel, and make confession to Him, and tell me now what you have done; do not hide it from me."_

_Joshua 7:19_

Silas went to bed that night with fresh bandages on again. Diggory hadn't asked him any further questions about Opus Dei since he discovered the scars on Silas' back but he told him stories about his day at the hospital and about his kids. It was a window in another world, a glimpse of a normal life. Silas hadn't had much contact with people with normal lives. He had known only street kids and jail birds like himself. Then he had been quite isolated in many ways within the Opus Dei community. Assassins were not encouraged to socialize.

He had tried to pray the rosary before going to bed but had only got through one decade before the drugs overcame him and he fell asleep. He slept soundly through the night with the rosary still in his hand and woke up in time to have breakfast with Sennett. He realized that he was already getting into a small routine.

"Do you remember that you told me there would be people in the Church who would protect me from Opus Dei?" Silas said hesitantly over breakfast. He was still unused to starting a conversation.

Sennett nodded.

"Do you think I could find a Confessor?" he asked tensely, putting down his spoon and clenching his white hands into fists.

Sennett looked at him thoughtfully as she ran possibilities through her mind. It was obvious to her that having the opportunity to go to Confession was very important to Silas emotionally.

"I think it would be dangerous to approach a Catholic priest in London, particularly at the moment," Sennett said honestly, "I really don't know any priest well enough to know their views on Opus Dei. It might seem odd if I started questioning them now."

Silas nodded. He knew she was right to be cautious but he was disappointed. He desperately wanted absolution.

"I do know a Russian Orthodox Bishop quite well who you would be safe confessing to. There would definitely be no ties to Opus Dei there. Would you accept an Orthodox Bishop?" she asked.

"I don't know a lot about the Orthodox," Silas confessed, a bit shame-faced. Opus Dei was not terribly interested in the Ecumenical movement. They believed they had the corner on truth, particularly Christian truth. His broader education had been so neglected growing up, that he didn't even have an insight into Orthodoxy from that.

"Okay," Sennett said meditatively, "Let's say that there is a continuum within the Christian faith from Conservative to Liberal. Let's say that Opus Dei is right at the far end of the Conservative end and the Catholic Church is just on the Conservative side of the middle and Liberal Protestantism is right at the opposite end to Opus Dei."

Silas nodded. He was good at visualizing and Sennett was explaining in a way that made it easy for him.

"Well, Orthodoxy would be somewhere between Opus Dei and Catholicism but probably closer to Catholicism. I always say that Orthodoxy is just Catholicism to the power of 10," she said with a small smile.

"More conservative than the mainstream of the Catholic Church?" Silas pondered aloud.

"But nothing like as rigid as Opus Dei," Sennett confirmed.

"What about doctrinally?" Silas asked cautiously.

"Almost identical," Sennett shrugged, "We say the same prayers, have a similar order of Mass, read the same Bible, have identical sacraments, even the structure of their parishes and authorities is similar. They have their own Pope who meets with the Catholic Pope at Ecumenical gatherings. The only Christian Churches who are closer in doctrine and practice are the Episcoplians and perhaps the High Anglican, really."

Silas was silent as he wrestled with this problem. He was used to only recognizing the authority of the Catholic Church and the Opus Dei hierarchy in particular. On the other hand, if Sennett trusted this Russian Orthodox Bishop then perhaps he should too. After all, Sennett obviously knew far more about the broader picture of the Christian faith than he did.

"How do you know this Bishop?" Silas asked curiously.

"It's a funny story," Sennett said with a shrug, "I keep a journal on-line. There are a lot of Christians and non-Christians out there interested in my work and who I can swap ideas with. This Bishop, his name is Seraphim by the way, joined my friends list on my journal one day. I didn't know anything about him at all, much less that he was a Russian Orthodox Bishop. He was such an unusually gentle, humble, wise man and I used to enjoy his journal entries so much that we got to know each other quite well. Then I noticed his other friends on-line were calling him 'master' which I thought was odd. So I asked him about it and it turned out he was a Bishop! 'Master' is a very rough English translation of a Russian word that the Orthodox use to address their Bishops. You could have knocked me down with a feather! Of course, I wasn't exactly in awe of him having gotten to know him before I realized his authority which turned out to be a good thing. It also turned out that he lives in London," Sennett said with a shrug.

"What is a on-line journal?" Silas asked blankly.

Sennett sighed to herself. Sometimes talking to Silas was like trying to make yourself understood by an alien.

"It's a diary that you keep on the internet. Other people can link their diaries to yours so you can all keep in touch and share ideas," Sennett explained.

Silas reflected that this was a wonderful way to have as little or as much contact as you wished with others.

"You trust this Bishop?" Silas asked warily.

"He is one of the few people I have met in my life that I would trust without any hesitation at all. I would trust him with my greatest secrets," Sennett said truthfully.

"You have a lot of secrets," Silas replied meditatively.

"So do you," Sennett rejoined. After a pause she added, "Let me know if you want to see the Bishop some time. I'm sure he would come around to visit you here. After all, you're not up to going out. It probably wouldn't be wise anyway."

Silas reflected that having choices was not easy. In Opus Dei he didn't have many choices. Now he had to make choices and he wasn't sure of anything. He didn't know enough about the world outside Opus Dei to make choices in an informed way. Once again, he found himself in the position of having to trust someone.

"Why don't you do some reading about Orthodoxy before deciding?" Sennett said, as though reading his mind.

She got up and went over to the bookshelves and picked out some heavy texts. She brought them back to the table and flicked through them one by one, marking pages with the dust cover or scraps of paper from a notebook on the table.

"Have you used the internet before?" Sennett asked.

Silas nodded. The access was very restricted at Opus Dei but he had more freedom than most. Assassins had to have certain knowledge before they went on assignment.

Sennett went over to her laptop on a small desk in the corner of the lounge. She logged on and left it open for Silas to use.

"There you go," she said, coming back to the table and picking up her bag, "Have a good day," she added as she left for work.

Silas went over to the laptop, taking a chair with him. He sat down and went to the Google Home Page. Hesitating slightly, he typed in "Russian Orthodoxy" and was amazed at how many hits he got. He was used to the restricted access of Opus Dei.

With dawning realization, Silas realized that he now had access to almost anything in the world that he wanted to know. He could even research possible Orders to join once he was finished healing.

With a feeling of anticipation and excitement, he clicked on the first link.

Later, Silas began to wonder if he wanted to become Orthodox. It was such a beautiful Denomination of Christianity with its mysterious icons, rich cathedrals, complex prayers and rituals, and formal and reverential approach to worshipping God. There was a romance about it that appealed to Silas' imagination and a formality that appealed to his ascetic nature.

He was beginning to feel sleepy again and reluctantly he went and lay down in his room. As he drifted off, images of golden cathedrals and incense smoke played inside his head. Without realizing it, he had already made the decision to see the Bishop.

That night when Sennett came in, she found Silas reading one of the books she had left out for him. There was a pile on the coffee table, so he had obviously been doing a lot of reading. His colourless eyebrows were drawn together in a frown of concentration as he read and Sennett noticed that he was still wearing his hood like a cowl over his pale head.

"Hey," she said quietly as she came in.

Silas glanced up to return the greeting when he noticed for the first time that Sennett looked tired. It was a bit of a shock to him. He hadn't realized that the week may have taken a toll on her.

"Are you alright?" he asked immediately without thinking.

She just nodded a smiled tiredly, "Just a little tired."

Silas contemplated that she looked more than just a little tired, she looked exhausted.

Over dinner, Silas had a question for Sennett. He always seemed to have questions for her. He had come to trust the information she gave him, particularly as she never seemed interested in forcing or even asking him to do anything. Sennett didn't seem to have the agendas that everyone else he had ever met did.

In this instance, her education would give him a very informed and balanced answer to his question.

"Have you ever heard of the Priory of Sion?" Silas asked tentatively in a hushed voice. He was afraid to say it too loud even here in Sennett's flat.

Sennett rolled her eyes, "Not that load of old rubbish," she said dismissively.

Silas' strange eyes widened. Why didn't Sennett with all her knowledge of church history and theology know of the huge threat the Priory posed to the survival of the Catholic Church? Why was she so indifferent?

"What do you know about them?" he asked cautiously in his deep, rasping voice.

Sennett shrugged, "There isn't a great deal of accurate historical information about them. Many historians say they never really existed and were a hoax perpetuated by the French Pretender, Pierre Plantard; a story moreover that has been verified by Plantard's own family recently. The theory goes that the Knights Templar were the Priory's military arm. The Templars were supposedly guarding something but what that was is anyone's guess. The romantics like to think it was the Holy Grail, the chalice at Christ's Last Supper but that's highly unlikely. The Pope squashed the Knights Templar in 1307, probably because they were too powerful and the Vatican didn't like any challenge to its political power in those days. The Inquisition was gathering force at around that time too, and the Cathars and other sects were being persecuted.

"There are modern scholars (and I use the term loosely) who think the Holy Grail the Templars were guarding is actually the secret of the bloodline of Jesus Christ Himself, and His family down through the centuaries. They suggest that Jesus married Mary Magdalene. They use some apocryphal gospels to support their theories and for some bizarre reason, the paintings of Leonardo Da Vinci. The verdict of historians is that these theories are little more than a series of guesses. It would make a great novel though, don't you think?" Sennett said.

Silas felt off-balance and stunned. Some large part of himself was crumbling and being washed away like sand on a beach. All these things he had been told, all these things he had killed for – they were only theories and suppositions unsupported by historical evidence? A well educated scholar like Sennett thought they were a joke and not worth taking seriously?

Had he really hunted down some poor woman and persecuted her; held a knife to her throat and pushed her to the ground for something that wasn't even true?

Silas had to know. He took a risk.

"What if I was to tell you that I met the four guardians of the Priory of Sion? That they do exist? What if I told you I had met the descendent of Jesus and Mary Magdelene?" he said in a voice so low, Sennett could barely hear.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

_For their deceit is falsehood._

_Psalm 119:118_

Sennett was silent for a moment, then said, "I would tell you that just because a group of people have gathered together in modern times and called themselves the Priory of Sion does not mean they have any connection to any real historical group by the same name. It also does not mean that they understand or know the secrets of that original, historical organization if it did exist. As for the supposed descendent of Christ you met, how do you know His blood runs in his or her veins? How could it ever be proved without DNA evidence?" Sennett asked.

"That's what I was charged to destroy," Silas said heavily, "I had to destroy the DNA, so it could never be proved."

Sennett sat very still as she processed their conversation. "Silas, what was your purpose at Opus Dei?" she finally asked bluntly.

"To destroy the Priory and the bloodline and the DNA evidence," he replied, his long fingers moving restlessly on the table and his shoulders hunched.

"Opus Dei actually believed this rubbish?" Sennett said incredulously, watching his restless beautiful hands.

Silas nodded despondently.

"Do you?" Sennett breathed.

"I did," he admitted wretchedly, "Now I don't know. It absorbed so many years of my life. It's hard to comprehend that no-one outside Opus Dei takes it seriously."

"How were you going to destroy the bloodline and DNA evidence?" Sennett asked.

"By killing the only living descendent and destroying Mary Magdalene's tomb," Silas replied ashamedly.

"What if we could prove that Mary Magdalene and this descendent are not related by blood even distantly? Would you believe the historians and not Opus Dei then?" Sennett asked.

Silas stared at her dumbly. Could it still be done? He knew he could find Sophie Neveu again and get a sample of her hair or something without being noticed but could Sennett help him find the tomb?

"How would we find the tomb?" Silas asked huskily.

"I already know where it is," Sennett said bluntly.

Silas felt the shock like a physical sensation. His skin turned cold and his pale hair stood up at the back of his neck. Surely Sennett wasn't serious? How could she know something like that? It was the original Holy Grail itself, according to the Priory.

"How?" he asked hoarsely.

"Robert Langdon told me just this week," Sennett said, "Of course, he wants to keep it a secret for now until he's finished writing some new book or another. He wanted my help with the research…."

Her speech trailed off when she saw Silas' face. His eyes burned with blue fire in a way that unnerved Sennett. She had seen him in a passion before (that was the cilice episode) but she found that wild stare disturbing.

"You know Robert Langdon?" Silas whispered.

"He works in a related field to me in the States, so we have crossed each others paths a few times," Sennett replied, "You know him too obviously."

Silas sneered. He did not like Langdon. Langdon had thwarted him too many times and Silas did not take kindly to it. "I know him," Silas said bitterly.

"Well, you'd better steer clear of him in that case," Sennett said frankly, "There is no need to involve him anyway. I can get access to where the tomb is. I have connections at the Louvre in the Religious Art Department."

Silas looked at her quizzically, "Mary Magdalene's tomb is at the Louvre?" he repeated in confusion.

"Yes, they moved it there from Rosslyn Chapel, Robert told me," Sennett replied

"Rosslyn Chapel – the Rose Line – Sang Real," Silas mouthed to himself. Parts of the mystery were coming together finally. The Guardians had well and truly duped him into believing it was in Saint-Sulpice.

"Why would they die to protect a lie?" Silas muttered to himself.

"Who?" Sennett asked.

"The Guardians; why would they die to protect a bloodline that wasn't real?" he asked. He had seen the light fade from each of their faces. Every time, they had lied with their last breath to protect this Sang Real – this bloodline.

"They obviously believed it but just because they believed it, does not make it true," Sennett said with a shrug, "Perhaps they needed to believe it. Perhaps by believing it, it made God somehow more human and less divine; more accessible to them and less beyond the reach of their understanding. Perhaps they had a deep need to bring God down to human level because they could not bear to worship or even acknowledge anything so much greater than themselves," Sennett postulated, "People have been trying limit God to our own human understanding since time began."

Silas pondered this thought. Again, he felt hope spring to life under his ribs. If they would prove that Sophie Neveu and Mary Magdalene were not related then he could be set free from the tormenting thought that the Church was trying to cover up something that was true. Bishop Aringarosa and the Teacher had told him that what the Priory was protecting was important to destroy for the future security of the Church. What if they had been wrong? What if they had only been trying to protect the Church from what was actually a lie that could be easily disproved?

"I want to know," Silas said in a low voice, his pale brows drawn together in a frown.

"Could you get a sample of hair from this descendent without being seen?" Sennett asked.

Silas smiled an odd smile. There was nothing he was better at than accomplishing missions like that without being seen. It was his specialty. He could travel and take the sample during the night hours and hide away without being seen all day if necessary. If the tomb had lain at Rosslyn Chapel all this time then that must be where the Priory would still gather now. They could not gather at the Louvre, it was too public, so the Chapel was the only other logical place.

"Yes, I can be there and back in 48 hours," he said simply.

"I can do my work at the Louvre in the same time. The other question is, are you going to be able to travel with those wounds? Diggory is stitching them up tonight but they will still take some time to heal," Sennett said practically.

"Today is Thursday. I think by Saturday night, I will be fit enough to accomplish this small task," he said.

Sennett nodded, "Then I will arrange a flight for myself to Paris for Saturday. How do you want to travel? Do you need me to make any arrangements?" she asked.

"No, I don't have to go too far," he said. Roslin was only in Scotland. He had no doubt Sophie Neveu would still be there. She had just found her family, after all. "I will need some kind of over-the-counter sleeping drug and some dark glasses," he added. He didn't want Sophie waking up when he pulled a few hairs out of her head. He didn't trust using hair from a hairbrush. He wanted to be absolutely certain that the DNA he got was Sophie's and no-one else's.

"I can pick up that," Sennett said, "And I'll arrange enough cash for your trip too."

Silas was used to other people making these arrangements for him. Opus Dei used to organize the details of his past missions. He was also aware this was Sennett's personal funds and not those of the Church.

Silas frowned, "I feel like I've already cost you so much…" he began diffidently.

"Silas, one thing I don't have to worry about is money," she said flatly, her dark eyes gleaming with amusement, "You can trust me on that count."

Silas could see she was telling the truth. She had the air of someone who had never been poor and knew she never would be. She came from a class in society with money; that was obvious. It was just another reason Silas envied her. Although, it didn't sound as though money had made her family any more stable or happy than his own had been.

"Besides, I'm interested now. I'd love to see a modern myth exploded. Mind you, I don't think anyone believes it anyway," Sennett added dismissively but with a gleam of excitement in her dark eyes. "Who doesn't love a Grail quest, even if the quest is to debunk a false Grail?"

It still felt odd to Silas to realize that he was one of the few people in the world who did or ever had taken the Priory of Sion seriously. If Sennett was proved right (and he had a feeling she would be) then both he and Bishop Aringarosa were victims of the Teacher's lies. Again, his world felt tilted on its head; black was white and white was black.

Diggory came around again later that evening to sew up the wounds.

"At least they won't bleed now if you move around," he told Silas cheerfully as he injected anesthetic near the wounds so the stitching wouldn't be too painful, "How are you feeling anyway?"

There was someone asking him how he was again, Silas thought with bewilderment. How did he feel? He had no idea. He was not used to asking himself these questions.

"I feel alright," Silas finally said guardedly.

"You have to be careful with these kinds of wounds. A person will always experience shock to some degree and you lost a lot of blood too. I can see Sennett has been doing the right thing and giving you plenty of red meat to eat and fluids to drink. You look quite well. A normal after effect of shock is depression. If you start to feel a bit low, let me know. There is medication you can take to get you through that period," Diggory said kindly.

Silas contemplated all the years of his life when he had 'felt a bit low'. No-one had offered him any help to get through it. No-one had even seemed to notice. Even the Bishop… but he didn't want to think about Bishop Aringarosa.

Before retiring, Silas found Sennett on the lounge watching some current affairs show.

"I would like to see your Russian Orthodox friend, the Bishop," he said diffidently.

Sennett looked up at her strange houseguest in the half light of the TV. It was odd having another person around again, she thought to herself. She had gotten too used to living on her own. Silas was the least bother it was possible to be as a guest, however. He certainly added interest to her life, particularly now with a quest to go on.

"Of course, I'll see if he can pop by sometime tomorrow. He works in a small library during the week. There aren't enough Russian Orthodox parishes in London for him to have one of his own. I know he misses pastoring to his own flock, so he would probably love to come around," Sennett said.

Silas said thank you and then went back to his room. The drugs were making him feel sleepy, Diggory said they might. As he drifted off to sleep, he pondered on what a waste it was that a Bishop did not have a flock to tend; particularly a Bishop with a heart for it. There were so many Catholic parishes with an inadequate number of priests these days. Society had changed. Few wanted a celibate life of service. Now here was a more than adequately qualified Bishop without his own flock to serve. It was terrible.

With that, he fell asleep.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

…_to open their eyes, in order to turn them from darkness to light, and from the power of Satan to God, that they may receive forgiveness of sins and an inheritance among those who are sanctified by faith in Me._

_Acts 26:18_

The Bishop arrived at around 3pm the next day. Sennett had dropped a key to the flat in to him on her way to work. She guessed that Silas would be nervous about answering the door to anyone who knocked. He was too distinctive looking to hide very well from his enemies should they come calling.

Silas had just woken up from his daily sleep and felt groggy. He examined the small Russian man with grizzled hair with interest. He could see the gentle, scholarly, humble disposition of the man immediately and relaxed. He knew why Sennett trusted him instinctively. He had a full grey beard almost down to his chest and intelligent, mild brown eyes. He looked more like Silas' idea of a Jewish Rabbi or Elder than a Bishop. It was odd how Catholic priests tended to be clean shaven in the tradition of the Romans although their Christian faith came to them through the Jewish tradition, Silas thought inconsequentially.

In the same way, Seraphim was sizing up Silas. He was a kind man but also shrewd. Although somewhat mystical, he had been in the world enough to know human nature well. Seraphim saw a man still physically young enough not to be considered middle-aged but with a look in his eyes that was far too old for his years. He looks were startling in terms of his sheer size and strange colouring but it was the expression in Silas' eyes that really captured the Bishop. It was not a look he had seen on very many faces – in fact, it was unique. It was the look of an inexpressibly weary child, an abused animal that was frightened, a grown man used to living without hope or comfort, a spirit almost too strong for the body that housed it – particularly such an abused one. This was not a usual soul.

To Seraphim's amazement, the giant dropped to his knees before him. "I must kiss your ring," he said humbly.

Seraphim was surprised. The Catholic Church was not so formal anymore and ring kissing was not a tradition of the Orthodox. However, it was appropriate for a Russian Orthodox Bishop to be greeted with a bow to the floor, a request for blessing and a kiss on the hand.

"May the Lord bless you, Silas," Seraphim said without missing a beat and gave his right hand to the kneeling man.

"How should I address you?" Silas asked anxiously, after kissing his hand. He didn't want to offend a Bishop.

"You can call me Seraphim," he replied mildly.

Silas looked scandalized, "Oh no, I couldn't do that! It would be disrespectful."

"If it makes you more comfortable, the correct address is 'Your Grace'," Seraphim said gently, "Sennett tells me you would like to make confession," the Bishop added kindly.

"Yes please, Your Grace," Silas said humbly.

Seraphim began to wonder when Silas was going to get off the floor. It was nice to be treated with so much respect, particularly in the modern world, but Silas' deference was outside his experience.

"Let's sit on the couch and I'll explain how the Russian Orthodox celebrates confession," Seraphim invited, gesturing to the couch.

Silas got up meekly and went and sat on one end.

Silas learnt that the Orthodox confession was slightly different. There was no Rite of Contrition but rather Psalm 51 was read and other readings dealing with David's repentance before Nathan the Prophet. Then Silas could unburden himself and receive absolution.

Seraphim had been somewhat prepared to hear something disturbing. Sennett had warned him that the things Silas wanted to confess were serious; that he had already discussed them with her, in fact.

"But he feels he needs absolution?" Seraphim had said.

"Yes – and I can't give him that, of course," Sennett had said wryly.

For over two hours, Seraphim listened to the whole story of the Priory of Sion and the murders. Bishop Aringarosa had already absolved Silas from all the murders except those he had committed on Saturday night and Sunday. He felt the need to tell Bishop Seraphim everything, however.

Seraphim listened with a carefully expressionless face. It was the strangest story he had ever heard. He never would have suspected these goings on in the Catholic Church but he was sensible enough to realize that it involved only a very small, fanatical group within the Church. It was almost certain that they did not even have permission from higher authorities for their actions. As for the Priory of Sion business; anyone with any kind of understanding of history, particularly Church history, should have been able to see through such a wild tale immediately. Who knew what kind of game Opus Dei had been playing? Silas was obviously not educated enough to defend himself against their ploys.

Seraphim had heard many confessions in his life as a priest and Bishop but this was the strangest, the darkest and the saddest. He did not know but he suspected that Silas life was one of great tragedy.

When Silas described killing the policemen and Bishop Aringarosa, thick hot tears ran down his ravaged face turning his strange, red-rimmed eyes translucent. It looked uncanny. It was strange to see such a large, hulking man as vulnerable as a child, Seraphim thought compassionately. He could see how easily Silas' superiors in Opus Dei had manipulated him.

"May Our Lord and God, Jesus Christ, through the grace and bounties of His love towards mankind, forgive you, my Child Silas all your transgressions. And I, an unworthy Priest, through the power given me by Him, forgive and absolve you from all yours sins," Seraphim said, after covering Silas' head with his stole.

"What is my penance?" Silas asked anxiously, wiping his tears with his colourless hands.

"I think you've done more than enough penance in your life," Seraphim said with mysterious insight, "You just need to firmly resolve not to allow any man to lead you to commit sin again regardless of his rank in the Church."

Silas nodded despondently, "I promise, Your Grace."

After having a cup of tea with Silas, the Bishop left to go and contemplate the strange life of this Opus Dei numerary. He shivered as he remembered the tale and thought it a good caution against secretive organizations within the Church as a whole. One thing he knew for sure, he would never forget meeting Silas.

Sennett came home that evening to find Silas on the internet. She had left it on for him again that morning. He was obviously researching the Roslin area of Scotland, ready for his trip.

"Have you found everything you need?" Sennett asked, coming up and standing a few paces behind him.

"Yes," Silas said with a nod. He knew exactly how he was going to travel there and back without being seen. He would hire a car and drive there at night. It would take most of the night to get there but he could spend the day hiding out. It was never hard to find hiding places. It was an instinct he had picked up as a street kid and never lost. He would need to find where Sophie was staying once evening fell but Roslin was only a village. It would not take long to sniff out the remnants of the Priory. He had printed out maps and directions of the different routes to Roslin from Kensington and a map of the village too.

"Well, come and have some dinner. It won't take long to cook. I got some fish seeing as its Friday," she said and went through to the kitchen.

Silas was not worried about failing in his mission. He had done things that were far harder to accomplish than this. He was curious as to how Sennett was going to gain entry to the Louvre and break open a hidden tomb without anyone knowing, however.

"Seraphim rang me late this afternoon," Sennett said as they ate.

Silas glanced at her curiously. He did not doubt for one second that the Bishop had kept the seal of the confessional unbroken. He was right.

"He wanted to know if he could drop in on you during next week just as a social call," Sennett said. She wanted to add, 'See? You're making friends already,' but she had a feeling that would somehow spook him and make him self-conscious.

Silas looked surprised but almost pleased too. He was not used to people requesting his company just for its own sake. He wondered if the Bishop wanted something from him but Silas hadn't gotten that kind of feeling from him.

"I told you he needed people to pastor," Sennett said with a grin, "And I could tell he liked you from the way he spoke about you."

Silas looked even more amazed. Somebody liked him? Particularly someone who knew the worst things about him? Somebody just wanted to spend time with him? It was a new feeling to him. He could feel warmth steal over him like something physical. He could feel something within himself relaxing and softening, like a knot loosening and coming undone. It was such a startling feeling that Silas forgot to eat for quite awhile. He was so arrested by this new feeling of warmth that he sat perfectly still staring into space.

Sennett was used to all kinds of weirdness from Silas by now, so she let him be. It was quite apparent he was having some kind of personal revelation.

The next morning, Silas woke to find Sennett dressed in very smart casual clothes with a small travel bag waiting on the table. For someone who was obviously quite well off, she wasn't ostentatious, Silas thought fleetingly. Not in the way she dressed or the kinds of possessions she had.

"I need to leave fairly soon to catch my plane. I've left a backpack and a coat on the table for you with some cash, the spare key, and the sleeping drugs and the dark glasses you asked for. Buy anything else you need along the way and make sure you eat regularly too because you're still not strong," she said with concern, "I'll see you sometime Sunday?" she asked questioningly.

Silas nodded. That should be plenty of time. He already knew he would need to come back here to take cover and rest as soon as the mission was accomplished.

"See you Sunday!" Sennett called on her way out the door, "Don't forget your medicine!"

Silas could not leave until night fell, so he took his medication and checked the contents of the backpack. Sennett had bought a wallet for the money. When he counted it he realized it was far more than he needed. £1,000 was a fortune to Silas who could make do on nearly nothing. With that kind of money, he could stay in the best hotel in the district. Not that he had any intention of making himself that conspicuous. Besides, he was uncomfortable with ostentation. He was not used to it. It felt somehow wrong and wasteful to him.

Inside the backpack was a pair of warm, lined, leather gloves. He picked up the coat and examined it. It was thick and warm and waterproof. The fact that it was black would make moving around at night that much easier. Also in the backpack were plastic bags for the hair samples and a pair of tweezers. Sennett, as usual, had thought of everything.

He added his maps and medicine to the backpack, and made a sandwich for the long night's drive. He had held on to the false driver's license and passport that Opus Dei had provided long ago which he had kept in the deep pockets of his old monks robe. He doubted anyone in Opus Dei would have given that information out to Police. They would hardly want the Police to know they gave their numeraries false identities. He put these documents in his backpack too. He would need them for hiring a car. Lastly, he looked at the mobile phone Sennett had left for him. It was an old one that she had lying around the flat still but it couldn't have been a model more than two years old. She had obtained a new sim card under her own name for it so he could contact her or anyone else if he needed to. Her mobile number was written on a piece of paper tucked into the wallet.

Sennett had told Diggory that they were going away to the country for the weekend to give Silas some fresh air. He put the spare bandages that the doctor had given him in the backpack too.

He had already found the nearest car hire place within easy walking distance of the flat by way of the internet and rung to book a car for pick up at 6pm.

He would sleep through the day so he could stay awake that night. He was ready.

Sennett boarded the plane at Heathrow for the short hop to Paris. France was home, so Sennett was looking forward to going back for a day or two.

She had already contacted her cousin who worked in the Religious Art Department of the Louvre. She had grown up with him and they had a bond of unusual closeness. Philippe was one of the few people Sennett had ever come across that she could love without effort. Even after he was married to a very nice (but rather vague) young woman, their bond remained close.

She spent the day shopping. She was not meeting Philippe until closing time at the Louvre. There was no point trying to break into tombs during the day. Even operating in the hidden places of the Louvre, there were still too many people around. It was best to minimize the risk.

At 6pm, having stashed her shopping at the Hotel Ecole Centrale, she headed for the Louvre by Metro. She rang her cousin on mobile as she stepped off the train and he met her by the Pyramid.

"Now, where did you want to go?" Philippe asked her in rapid French after they had exchanged their customary bear hug.

"Right underneath here," she replied in her native tongue, pointing down.

"Underneath the pyramid?" he clarified, clearly puzzled.

"Oui," Sennett replied with a grin.


	11. Chapter 11

_A/N: Semi-Charmed – thanks for the spelling tip-off. It was rather an important one! I've made corrections to the relevant chapters now._

**Chapter Eleven**

_And Mary Magdalene was there… sitting opposite the tomb._

_Matthew 27:61_

After Philippe had taken her through a torturous route of endless passages, they began descending infinite stairs.

"I won't need to go to the gym tonight," Sennett complained.

"You never go to the gym," Philippe retorted.

"Okay, so I _wouldn't_ need to now!" she grumbled again.

"You were the one who wanted to bury yourself under this place," Philippe shrugged in his Gallic fashion.

"It's funny you should say that…" Sennett said dryly.

"We're almost there. We'll need to use torches now," he said, giving her a small one and switching on his own.

"You think of everything!" Sennett said admiringly.

"You'd be amazed how many musty corners there are in the Louvre where you need these," Philippe replied.

They were walking down a narrow stone corridor that came to an abrupt end in a set of heavy, padlocked doors.

"Doesn't anyone wonder what is in this place?" Sennett asked curiously.

"You're assuming anyone actually comes down here. The Louvre is an old castle. It's full of secret passageways and hidden rooms and hidey holes. They get locked up and locked off so the nosey public don't go wandering around getting themselves lost," he said, looking meaningfully at his cousin, a glare that was lost in the dark of the passageway.

"I anticipated this," Sennett said, pulling a strange looking key out of her bag.

"What is that?" Philippe inquired.

"Skeleton key," Sennett replied, "I pinched the one from our department at Oxford. There are a lot of old locks at Oxford too."

"You are kidding me," Philippe said, shaking his head, "Do you know how to use that?"

"How do you think I get access to all the ancient texts I want to read that the silly Oxford library keeps locked up? It takes ages to get permission to look at one. I take shortcuts," Sennett confessed in a whisper.

"Don't whisper, it gives me the creeps down here," Philippe complained, "And you're a deviant, Sennett."

It didn't take Sennett long to break open the large padlocks.

"I can see you have accomplishments I wasn't aware of, Sennett," Philippe said sardonically.

"You know we're all descended from the black sheep of the family," Sennett replied mischievously.

Sennett pushed open the door and swept her flashlight rapidly over the floor. There didn't appear to be any trip alarms. She had a feeling their time was limited anyway. There was every chance that these modern day, fake Priorists were still monitoring the tomb.

As she thought of it, suddenly she saw it. It was huge and carved from white marble turned ivory with time. On the top of the enormous sarcophagus was a peaceful looking figure of a woman with long, flowing hair. It had a strange effect on Sennett. It made her feel very calm.

"There's a light switch here," Philippe said, not having seen the tomb yet.

"Leave it off. There are people who wouldn't want us here and they may have put alarms into the room. We'll have to work fast," Sennett said, digging a candle stub out of her bag and some matches.

The candle threw out an amazing amount of light into the small room. She heard Philippe draw in his breath when he saw the tomb.

"Magnificent! What an amazing piece of work," he said, his eye for art coming to the fore, "Who would be interested in monitoring this room?" he asked inquisitively, catching on to what Sennett had said.

"A very strange group of people who have tried to reawaken and remake an old myth; they call themselves the Priory of Sion," Sennett explained, dripping some wax on the floor nearby in order to stand the candle out of the way.

"The what?" Philippe repeated in amazement.

"Exactly! They are totally obscure. Their real origin and purpose, if they existed at all, is lost in the mists of time. A modern group is now posing at the Priory and they are dangerous in their own way, if only for their misguided fanaticism. They would die to protect the secret we are now about to debunk," Sennett replied coolly, "Now help me with this lid."

"You know, I always knew you'd end up getting involved in some mighty peculiar business some day what with studying church history and ancient texts and so on. It's impossible to avoid fanatics in that line of work!" he complained, helping her push at the heavy lid.

"That is very true," Sennett said, pushing with all her might.

To her surprise, although the lid was heavy, it did slide relatively easily. Sennett had been afraid that the two of them would be unable to move it by themselves.

"Whose tomb is this?" Philippe asked.

"If I told you, I'm not sure you would believe me," Sennett replied.

"Try me," he said.

"Mary Magdalene," Sennett said.

"You're right. I don't believe you," Philippe said.

Sennett made a slight rumbling noise of frustration in her throat. "Fine but don't interrupt!" she commanded.

Sennett picked up the candle and shone it into the deep cavity. She should not have been surprised but she was. Inside was an ancient stone ossuary identical to those used in the Middle East during Jesus' lifetime to store the bones of the dead. The ossuaries were not very big, only large enough to fit in the long bones of the legs, and this one was swamped in the large sarcophagus.

"I'll have to climb in," Sennett said.

Again she did a sweep of the bottom of the sarcophagus for any trip alarms. There didn't appear to be any.

Philippe gave her a leg up into the sarcophagus and she landed next to the ossuary.

She knew from her readings on Biblical archeology that there was not a good chance that the bones would be in good condition; the older the bones, the harder to extract reliable DNA. If she could get a reasonable sized bone, there was a much better chance the results would be complete or close to it.

Carefully she lifted the stone lid of the ossuary. Her heart was thumping in her chest. Was she really about to see the remains of one of the most well-known women of history? The bones of someone who had seen and known and talked with Jesus the Christ Himself? The idea was overwhelming but Sennett could not allow herself to be overwhelmed. She had to move fast.

Philippe was shining his torch down into the tomb to allow Sennett see better. She could almost feel his anticipation.

Her heart stopped when she saw the old, brown bones gleaming in their stone home. She was an amateur paleontologist at best, only knowing what she had read in innumerable articles, but she could tell the bones were too small and gracile to belong to a man.

"I can't believe it," Sennett breathed softly, "Can it really be you, Mary Magdalene?"

Quickly pulling on a white cotton glove and taking a plastic bag out of her pocket, Sennett carefully reached between the long bones of Mary's arms and legs to the smaller bones scattered on the bottom of the ossuary. She was willing to provide evidence to debunk a myth but she was not prepared to desecrate a tomb more than necessary. Carefully Sennett picked out a reasonably sized fragment of rib and one of the metatarsal bones from Mary's feet.

To her astonishment, she noticed a reddish gleam near the skull.

"Shine your torch closer, Philippe," she said breathlessly.

She was right, there was actual hair! The hair would help enormously with completing the DNA sequence accurately. Carefully, she placed several hairs in the plastic bag with the bones. She sealed the bag immediately to prevent contamination and put it in the deep inner pocket of her jacket. It felt strange to have the bones of so ancient and so famous a figure so close to her. It felt surreal, in fact.

After taking one last lingering look at Mary's fragile bones, Sennett respectfully closed the ossuary again. "Rest in peace, Mary," she whispered.

Sennett climbed out and she and Philippe closed the lid of the sarcophagus again.

"I almost don't believe it," Sennett confided to Philippe.

"I'm sure by tomorrow I'll have convinced myself this was all a dream," Philippe agreed but with an odd awe in his voice. He was even less used to transversing time than Sennett who had spent so much of her life mentally in another era.

Sennett was just about to blow out the candle when they heard it. There was a stealthy step and then the door flew back. A middle aged man was staring at them down the barrel of a gun.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded harshly in their native French.

Sennett barely paused a beat. "We wanted to worship at the tomb of the Magdalena," Sennett said humbly, lying quickly and easily.

"How do you know that's what this is?" he asked suspiciously.

"I'm a friend of Robert Langdon's. He told me, he entrusted me with the secret. I'm helping him research his next book which will prove the Merovingian line," Sennett said, knowing for certain that Langdon was a friend of the Priory even if not a member. He had told her part of the incredible story when he had asked for her help with the research.

"You know Langdon?" the man said, relaxing slightly.

"Ring him and ask him," Sennett said, handing the man her phone, "My name is Sennett Langlois."

He looked at her suspiciously but took the phone and scrolled through her directory. He found Langdon's number and rang it. Fortunately, it was still early enough for Langdon to be up.

The man conversed with Langdon in English.

"I am Marcel St Clair, one of Sophie's relatives. Do you know a Sennett Langlois?" he said gruffly.

He listened while Langdon spoke at the other end. Sennett and Philippe exchanged a glance.

Marcel handed Sennett the phone for her to talk to Langdon.

"Sorry Robert, I just had to see for myself. The tomb is so beautiful! I've got my cousin Philippe with me, the one who works in the Religious Art Department of the Louvre. He got me in here," Sennett said.

Philippe could hear an excited burst of talking at the other end.

"Yes, I'm sure he'd be happy to help you with your research too and to let you in to visit the tomb whenever you like," Sennett said, glancing at Philippe.

Philippe obviously didn't care what she said, so long as Marcel stopped pointing a gun at them.

"You need to tell Marcel to put his gun away and let the other Priory members know that we are helping you," Sennett said.

After a few moments, she handed the phone gingerly back to Marcel who listened to Langdon for a few minutes before saying goodbye and hanging up.

Marcel gave the phone back and put away his gun. "You check out with Langdon and Sophie trusts Langdon implicitly," he said gruffly, "You have to understand that we are very protective of this tomb."

"I understand," Sennett said soothingly, stepping outside into the corridor, "I'll check in with Langdon first if I need to come back again."

"I think that would be wise," Marcel said, snapping the padlocks shut again.

Marcel escorted them back out onto the street and then disappeared into the shadows.

After he had gone, Sennett turned to her cousin. "Sorry Philippe," Sennett apologized, "That was my worst case scenario but I thought the chances were pretty slim that anyone would know we were there. I guess they are more vigilant than I would have guessed."

"You won't need to go back again, will you?" Philippe asked nervously.

"No, I have what I need. Mind you, I think I will remember tonight for the rest of my life," Sennett laughed.

"You're an accomplished liar as well as a deviant," Philippe observed with mock severity, "I think you are a thoroughly disreputable character."

"Well, then I fit in with the rest of the family. Come on, I owe you and your wife dinner," Sennett said with a laugh, taking him arm. Only Philippe would have allowed her to lead him into an adventure like that. That's why she loved him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

_There shall not be found among you anyone who makes his son or his daughter pass through the fire, or one who practices witchcraft, or a soothsayer, or one who interprets omens, or a sorcerer_

_Deuteronomy 18:10_

Silas' journey would prove to be far less melodramatic. He picked up the car without any problem, hiding his pale hair and eyes under his hooded pullover and sunglasses. As had happened so many times before, no-one questioned his false identification.

After filling up just outside of London, he followed the map to Midlothian. The entire trip took eight hours with Silas stopping just once for half an hour to eat his sandwich and drink a hot drink he picked up from another service station. He was wise enough to drive away from the service station and eat in the car. It was not safe for him to stay in one place very long.

Before the sun came up, he was able to check into a Motel in Midlothian just outside of Roslin. He knew that villages were small places and even casual tourists would be noticed. It would not be smart to stay in Roslin itself.

Before checking in, he had picked up some food for that day from yet another service station. He didn't want to have to make any kind of appearance during the day in order to eat. He filled up the car again too. He wanted to ensure he would be able to make a fast getaway if need be.

One in his motel room, he took his medication with a muffin and coffee. Within half an hour, he was asleep.

He woke up again as the sun was going down. He cautiously moved his injured shoulder. It seemed to be okay. He would change the dressings later that night. Perhaps he should take his evening medication then too. He was beginning to get the feeling that it made him groggy. That was the last thing he needed now.

He ate the sandwich and drank the juice he had bought earlier. He could feel his adrenalin rising although he felt quite calm. He was in his comfort zone with this kind of thing but it did require his senses to be very sharp. The adrenalin would help with that.

He had already made a plan but he would have to work quickly.

As dusk fell, Silas pulled his hood over head, put on his coat and gloves, and quietly let himself out of his room. Getting into the car, he drove the short distance to the outskirts of Roslin. Using the map to guide him, he continued on to the Rosslyn Chapel but parked the car far enough away so that anyone near to the church would not be able to see it.

Staying within the shadows, Silas made his way to the Church. If the Priory were going to meet anywhere, it was sure to be here. The Priory had been Silas' life for so long that he was sure he would recognize them. He had murdered four of their Guardians, after all.

A vigil service was currently underway in the Chapel and from the shadows of the Chapel's outer walls, Silas could hear the Order of Mass floating out to him on the early evening air. He silently mouthed the prayers along with the congregation. It had been over a week since he last took communion too but it was far too risky for him to enter the Chapel itself.

He waited outside in the chilly air until the Mass was over and the cars parked in the carpark on the other side of the Chapel had gone. People didn't linger long, chased home by the dark and cold once outside.

Before the priest could lock up the Chapel, Silas crept inside as silent as a shadow and hid in an alcove. The priest was lax and didn't check the Chapel thoroughly before locking up. That was common in Silas' experience of slipping in and out places he wasn't supposed to be. People did not expect others to want to hide or stay in places like this.

Once the doors were locked, the only lights were few and dim. Silas wasn't spooked. He loved churches. He felt at peace in them, one of the few places in the world that he did. He hunkered down in a shadowy corner to wait. Patience in these situations was once of Silas' strong points.

To Silas' own surprise, he didn't have to wait too long. At approximately 9pm, he began to hear the sound of car engines in the carpark. Then he heard the doors of the Chapel reopen and the sound of hushed voices.

From his vantage point on one side of the altar, he could see a group of approximately twenty people trail into the Chapel in ones and twos. They were all wearing long, dark robes over their regular clothes. It looked to Silas both theatrical and unnecessarily melodramatic. A few of them peeled off from the others and went down a flight of stairs to the right of the altar.

A few minutes later they came back carrying what looked like a very old, heavy book. It was large enough to be a medieval illuminated manuscript.

They all gathered at the front of the Church, close enough to the altar for Silas to overhear every word from his hiding spot.

"Friends, tonight we will celebrate the return of the true Merovingian Princess – Sophie St Clair," an elderly woman said with evident pride and joy, gesturing to a small figure in the group. Silas recognized Sophie immediately. He hadn't seen her at first because she too was wearing a dark robe.

The people clapped enthusiastically.

"Tonight, we will reinstitute an old ceremony that we have been unable to celebrate without true Merovingian royalty among us," she continued. "But before that, let us feast!"

Silas' ears pricked up. He had enough sleeping drug with him to fell a horse. If there were going to all be eating together, it would make it that much easier to administer it. He didn't care if they all got some. The most important thing was that Sophie had it.

The group wandered outside and began setting up a portable BBQ in the grounds near the Chapel. Silas cautiously followed them, leaving the Chapel by the opposite side and gradually creeping around to hide just around the corner from them.

Once the food was set out, they broke off into groups and wondered away chatting while the fire burnt down enough to allow for cooking the meat.

They had large thermos of hot drinks, probably coffee. Silas darted out of the shadows long enough to take one. Calculating roughly how many cups the thermos held, he added the sleeping drug proportionately, erring on the side of too much rather than too little. When no-one was looking, he put it back and took a second one and carried out the same operation again.

In the end, he managed to put drugs in each of the five large thermos. It was astonishing how little people noticed, how easy it was to accomplish things right under your enemies' noses, Silas thought and not for the first time. People only saw what they expected to see, generally.

His work here was done. He was not interested in watching the Priory's pathetic rituals.

Slipping away in the night, Silas went back to his car. Now all he needed to do was go back to Sophie's grandmother's house and wait. He had found the address with absurd ease on the internet. There were a few Saunieres in Roslin but only one with her late husband's first initial 'J'. She had not yet changed the telephone directory listing.

It would feel strange to go to the home of one of his victim's widows, Silas pondered as he drove there. In the main, he felt very little about it – just a sense of oddness. He had never expected to go there.

It was not until nearly 2am that Sophie and her grandmother returned to the house. Silas was hiding in their small garden, having already broken into the house and located the room Sophie was using so he could identify the window from outside.

He saw her light go out at roughly 2.30am and waited another hour to make sure she was in a deep sleep. In the blackest part of the morning when it was so quiet that Silas could hear his own breathing, he crept to the window ledge and pushed open the window. It had been locked on his earlier reconnaissance and he had discreetly unlocked the windows but left them shut. Sophie had not bothered to check them before she went to bed. Sophie also had no reason to believe that anybody was after her anymore, so why would she be cautious? Even now, all Silas wanted was hair samples, not her life.

After slipping silently into the room, Silas looked down at her sleeping face. The moonlight shone through the window and highlighted one side of her profile. Here was another woman he once would have found very physically attractive but just the sight of her now made gall rise into his throat. This woman had slapped his face viciously when he had been unable to defend himself and then told him he would burn in hell for murdering her grandfather – as though he hadn't known that.

Although he had gotten his revenge later in a small way, he wasn't proud of losing his temper and pushing her around. Her bones had felt so fragile when he'd held a knife to her throat. He had behaved like a bully and a lout, not a man of God. Still, he disliked her immensely. She was the focal point of the Priory's evil activities whether it was her fault they considered her Merovingian royalty or not.

Silas took one of the small plastic bags out of his pocket and with the tweezers carefully separated a single strand of Sophie's dark hair from the rest. The moonlight was bright enough so that he didn't have to use the small penlight torch he had bought at one of the petrol stations. He tugged gently and the hair came out quite easily. Sennett had cautioned him to get the hair root as well as the hair itself. It was no use just cutting a chunk of her hair. They needed the hair root for DNA too. He didn't dare do more than one hair at a time in case the pain woke her up despite the drugs.

After he had taken about twenty hairs, one by one, he sealed the bag and backed slowly out of the room. He hoped it was the last time he would ever see Sophie Neveu again.

He walked back to where he had parked the car out of the sight of any nearby houses and drove back to the motel. It was just after 4am Sunday morning. He would have to spend Sunday locked away in the motel room and drive back Sunday night. He could not risk being seen by day.

Silas slept all the next day, having changed the bandages he could reach as best he could and having finally taken his medication before going to sleep. He was hungry by the time he woke up and realized that he had not eaten for roughly 24 hours. He would have to stop at a petrol station as soon as he dared after leaving Midlothian to get food. Being light-headed was not wise at this point.

He paid his motel bill and left the district at around 6pm when darkness had already completely fallen. He anticipated getting back to Kensington in the early hours of the morning.

Nothing seemed out of place as he left the district. There were no Police cars around. He doubted anyone in the Priory would ever realize they had been mildly drugged and that Sophie's room at her grandmother's house had been broken into. After all, what had he stolen but something that Sophie was never likely to miss?

When Silas got in, the flat was dark apart from a lamp on the table.

"Good, you're back! I was starting to get worried that you had been spotted," Sennett said, coming out of her room yawning in her dressing gown, "I got in late this afternoon."

Silas felt a bit affronted. He was a professional at getting in and out of tight spots, after all. Still, he was secretly rather glad someone was worried about him. Bishop Aringarosa and the Teacher used to check in on him too, after a mission, but that was usually to get a report on what happened more than worry about whether some evil had befallen him.

"Hey, look at this," Sennett said, still bleary eyed. She went and opened the bag she had taken to Paris with her and pulled out a plastic pouch. Inside it was two very old looking, small, brown bones. "If the Priory is right, these belong to Magdalene," she said matter-of-factly.

Silas stared silently at the contents of the packet. He felt strangely awed to be looking at the bones of a person who knew Christ when He walked the Earth.

"This is the whole basis of their argument," Sennett said, still holding up the bag, "If the DNA doesn't match Sophie's then we know they are deluded or frauds or both."

"How did you get it?" Silas asked in wonder. He knew that with a great deal of planning and probably some murder along the way too, he could have obtained the same samples but he was still impressed with how quickly and neatly Sennett had penetrated the Louvre and walked off with part of arguably its most valuable treasure.

"I have family scattered in useful places," Sennett said with a wink.

That was not something that Silas understood. He had lost his own family so young and it had been such a chaotic, damaging environment that Silas had no comprehension of the advantages that family could bring at all.

"A member of your family helped you?" he asked blankly.

"Yes, my cousin Philippe. We have been close since we were children. When I say close, I mean we used to bath together when we were _really_ tiny. We spent long summers together with our other cousins too but he and I were always especially fond of each other," Sennett said, going through to the kitchen to put the kettle on.

Silas contemplated this picture Sennett had painted. He had not had cousins to play with over summer break. His father had been an only child and his mother had left her family behind in Ireland to marry his father. Silas had the vague idea that his mother's family hadn't approved of the marriage and so his mother didn't stay in contact with them.

After Silas' mother had been murdered by his father and he then had killed his father, he had run away. He had no connection with his mother's family at all now. He wasn't even sure how to go about trying to find them. After the life he'd led, he was reluctant to even try.

Sennett came out of the kitchen with a pot of tea and some sandwiches. Silas' stomach growled. The meat pie and sandwich he'd had on the road seemed like a long time ago now.

"How did you go?" she asked, breathing in the fragrance of the tea appreciatively.

Silas opened his backpack and pulled out the bag of Sophie's dark hairs, showing it to Sennett silently.

"We're Go for Launch then," Sennett said with a pleased smile.


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

_"Lord, behold, he whom You love is sick."_

_John 11:3_

Sennett got up late for work but it didn't matter. She didn't have tutorials to take until the afternoon. Silas was still asleep and likely to be all day as he had been awake all the previous night driving.

Sennett hopped on a bus to St John Street carrying the precious samples with her. There was a DNA Lab there she could submit the samples to. She had already spoken to one of department heads there late the previous week about how rare one of the samples was, so the lab was aware there was a need to take special care.

She had been tempted to approach one of the lecturers at Oxford for advice on how to go about the DNA testing but decided against it. The fewer people who knew, the better.

"We are not sure if there is a hereditary relationship between these two people. That is what we are trying to establish. As you can see, the bones are very old but we managed to get some hair samples too," Sennett said seriously to the middle-aged woman who headed up the department dealing with DNA testing unrelated to the standard paternity tests.

The woman examined the samples with an expert eye. "I think you may have enough there to go on and get a quite accurate result. Has there been any contamination?" she asked.

"Not that I'm aware of," Sennett replied honestly, "How long will you need?"

"Standard paternity tests take 2-3 weeks because of the sheer number we do. Because this is a slightly out of the ordinary case handled by a less busy section, I would imagine between 5 and 7 working days at the most," the department head said confidently.

"What is the accuracy rate?" Sennett asked.

"Because one of the samples is obviously so old, it's really hard to say. It depends on the quality of the DNA we can extract. In modern cases where we are trying to establish relationship other than paternity, it's roughly 99 or greater," she replied.

Sennett nodded. That was better news than she had been hoping for. She left her contact details at the lab and went on to work.

Once she got there, she quickly went through a pile of first year assignments she was marking for her Roman History subject tutorial. She could tell on first reading which students had done proper research and had good deductive minds. All the material they had available to them for research, Sennett had read or used herself at some point of her own study. Some had obviously been very lazy with their research and they were the ones awarded the worst marks.

Around 11am, Sennett realized she didn't feel very well. Absent-mindedly, she felt her forehead with one hand. _Dammit_, she thought, _the fever is back_.

Digging around in her bag, she took out some paracetamol. Sometimes that would work to get rid of the fever. If not, she had an arsenal of other medication in her bag.

She hoped her illness was not flaring up. She hated how it slowed her down when it did.

An hour later, when the paracetamol hadn't taken away the fever, Sennett dug around in her bag again and took out some codeine. She quickly swallowed two of the strong tablets and sighed. She got tired of being sick.

That evening when she got home, she found Seraphim visiting with Silas. Silas looked more contented than she had ever seen him.

"Would you like to stay for dinner, Master?" Sennett said welcomingly, "It's steak and kidney pie."

"Oh, yes please," Seraphim said with pleasure. He liked company for dinner as he too lived alone.

It turned into a congenial evening. Sennett served some wine with dinner which made the Bishop more voluble and Silas more relaxed. Silas even cracked a half smile when Seraphim and Sennett went off into gales of laughter over Seraphim's description of something that had happened during an Orthodox service he was presiding over.

"Would you like to see the icons in the Dormitian and All Saints Cathedral?" Seraphim asked Silas kindly.

Silas' eyes lit up with interest, "Yes please," he said immediately.

"I'll take you there one night later this week. I know the custodian and he will let us in," Seraphim said, quite well aware that Silas was in hiding.

Sennett thought it was good for Silas to have something to look forward to; otherwise he could get very depressed waiting to heal completely.

The Bishop left at around 10pm hopping on a bus just a few metres down the road.

"Will you be safe?" Silas asked anxiously. He felt protective of his new friend.

"Perfectly safe. It's not far and I catch the bus at night all the time. It's very well lit where I live," Seraphim said truthfully, "I've never had a single problem."

Seraphim reflected that Silas didn't trust the world which was hardly surprising. Having spoken to Silas a little about his early life that day, it was obvious that there really was no-one who had proven themselves trustworthy in Silas' life. That he was able to form any kind of friendship with himself and Sennett, however guarded, was rather miraculous.

Still, Seraphim had doubts that Silas would ever be able to have completely normal relationships. However, there was something endearing about his naivety about so many things.

Seraphim popped around again on Wednesday night to take Silas to the Cathedral.

Sennett waved them off. They would be gone for at least a couple of hours. Silas was no trouble but it was nice to have her flat back to herself for a short while. On the other hand, she had the feeling it was going to seem very empty after Silas decided what he wanted to do and moved on.

She took some codeine. She had been taking them like candy since Monday – two every four hours. It was the only way to stop herself burning up. The rash was back on her face too. Ironically, the colour across her cheeks made her look healthy but it was really a symptom of the disease. If the headaches got worse, she might have to take a day or two off work as well.

She glanced at the clock. It was 9pm. Silas had his key. She might turn in for the night. Rest did help a lot.

Friday afternoon, the Bishop popped by briefly to see Silas and drop off some pamphlets on the icons Silas had seen on Wednesday. Silas' eyes had nearly popped out of his head when he saw the ornate and beautiful Cathedral. Silas had seen many beautiful Catholic Cathedrals but the Orthodox architecture had a totally different feel.

It had given Seraphim great pleasure to see the genuine awe and interest in Silas' face. He loved the Cathedral and loved to share it with others who appreciated it.

"Sennett would probably like you to stay for dinner," Silas said diffidently.

"Sennett is very hospitable but I won't stay today and make her cook for an extra person. She's not well, you know," he added distractedly, sorting through the pamphlets.

Silas went very still and felt very strange. He felt so strange that he couldn't even identify or name the feeling. Once again, he felt suspended in time and reality.

"What do you mean Sennett isn't well?" Silas said. His voice sounded low and grating as it always did when in the grip of some strong emotion.

Seraphim glanced up bemusedly. "Hasn't Sennett told you? She's got a chronic disease called Lupus. Sometimes she's very sick," the Bishop said.

"No, I didn't know," Silas said, an odd expression on his face. "What is Lupus?"

"Oh, you'll have to ask Sennett. I don't know much about it. She doesn't talk about it a great deal. She's only been diagnosed for less than two years, I believe," Seraphim said.

"Is it fatal?" Silas asked light-headedly.

"It can be but usually isn't from what she's told me. Modern medicine has progressed a lot in its treatment," the Bishop said mildly.

All Silas heard was, _"It can be"._

Seraphim gave Silas the pamphlets and began speaking to him about them. Silas was interested in what the Bishop was saying but the greater part of his mind was taken up with the news that Sennett wasn't well.

He had noticed that some nights she looked very tired but she had never said anything. Why hadn't she said something?

Seraphim had some tea with Silas and then at around 5pm, he left with promises to bring Silas Holy Communion on Sunday. If he noticed that Silas was distracted, he gave no signs of it. Then again, Silas was used to hiding his emotions from others.

When Sennett came in that night, Silas watched her carefully. She did look tired. There was an expression of resignation at the back of her dark eyes that Silas had not noticed before.

Over a dinner of Tuna Mornay (being a Friday), Silas asked in a low voice, "Why didn't you tell me you were sick?"

Sennett did a quick scan of his face, "Was Seraphim here again today?" she asked, avoiding the question.

"Yes, he mentioned it. You never mentioned it; why not?" he persisted.

Sennett's dark eyes went to her plate, "What could you do about it even if I had told you?" she asked quietly.

"I could have helped around here more," he suggested, glancing around the tidy flat.

"You're badly injured, Silas. You need to rest and get completely healed up," Sennett said simply, "Besides, I usually get someone in to clean. I'm not at the moment because the fewer people who know you're here, the better."

"What is Lupus?" he asked with a frown.

"It's an autoimmune disease. My immune system is over-active and confused. It's attacking my own tissues - my own cells. It's not contagious and no-one knows what causes it," Sennett said with a shrug.

"What are the symptoms?" Silas asked, still frowning.

"They are legion and totally unpredictable. The most common are fatigue, headaches, fevers, a rash and rheumatoid arthritis. I'm in the 30 percent that also have hair loss and are photosensitive," Sennett said.

Silas knew what photosensitivity was. All Albinos had it too. Once again, he and Sennett were unexpectedly alike. They were both creatures of the dark, unable to go out into the sun. He glanced at her dark, glossy hair. He had never noticed it was any thinner than anyone else's. Unlike cancer treatment, it obviously didn't cause complete hair loss.

"Seraphim said it could be fatal," Silas said stiffly.

"Very rarely," Sennett said dismissively, "Most people with Lupus will live an almost normal life span thanks to modern drugs and treatment."

Sennett didn't choose to discuss how the disease could affect almost any major organ of her body, with the kidneys being a particular danger area.

Silas felt a little better but he made up his mind to help Sennett wherever he could.

That night when he went to bed, he lay awake contemplating his odd reaction to the news that Sennett was ill. The information was a profound shock to him and he had felt quite light-headed and disconnected when he heard it. He realized that Sennett had become an anchor for him when his whole life had fallen apart. If he lost Sennett, then he would be completely at sea once more.

Unlike those who had anchored him in the past, she asked nothing of him. He was not used to that kind of freedom. He was aware of how much he owed her and now, even more painfully aware of how much he depended on her during this time.

Once again, Silas went to sleep with tears on his face.


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

_Then He said, "Hear now My words: "If there is a prophet among you, I, the Lord, make Myself known to him in a vision; I speak to him in a dream._

_Numbers 12:6_

From then on, Silas began to watch Sennett far more closely. He started noticing odd things about her. For one thing, she seemed to be mysteriously out of step with time.

When she was cooking, she would often put on the timer and go and do something else for awhile. Without fail, she would leave what she was doing and begin walking through to the kitchen just before the timer went off. It usually rang as she was still walking to the oven or stovetop. After the first couple of times this happened, he watched more closely. She wasn't keeping an eye on the time. She didn't glance at a clock or watch before she got up. She just seemed to have an inbuilt ability to know just before something was going to happen.

Sometimes she would mention a friend or family member in passing that she hadn't seen for months and that person would ring unexpectedly that same day.

They would often watch the news together (always a trial on Silas' emotions) in the evening. As certain events played out over the course of days, Sennett was unfailingly correct in her predictions of how events would work out.

Then he noticed that often he would be thinking or feeling a particular thing and Sennett would suddenly say the very thing he was thinking or suddenly do something that made him realize she knew what he was feeling. If watching TV was making him anxious, she would turn it off. If he was feeling fretful and at a loose end, she would put on some soothing music - a sure way of calming him down.

Some of it Silas could put down to Sennett simply being sensitive. He knew he was naive in some ways due to his lack of education and his social isolation but he had also learned to hide his feelings from others. Neither the Bishop nor the Teacher had ever understood Silas' moods instinctively. They had understood how to trick and manipulate him but generally were not able to guess what he was feeling. The only way they knew was if he told them. He had been very open with Bishop Aringarosa and the Bishop had used the information to dupe him. But if there was some emotion he wished to hide from Aringarosa, he had always been able to.

He got the feeling that would not be an option with Sennett.

It was Sunday morning that the answer came to him as clear as crystal, seemingly out of nowhere. "You're a prophet," he said bluntly, putting his fork down next to his scrambled egg.

Sennett said nothing, just raised her eyes slowly from her own plate and looked at him guardedly. He could tell from the expression on her face that he was exactly right.

"That's why you're always out of step with time; why you always know what is going to happen," he continued, thinking out loud, "That's why you know about things that happen in Israel at the exact moment they happen although you're so far away. That's why you're celibate too. And that's how you know what everyone around you is thinking and feeling; its divine knowledge - prophetic knowledge."

Sennett didn't reply. She just looked back at the eggs going rubbery and cold on her plate. Once upon a time, she would have loved someone to guess the truth. Nowadays, it didn't seem to matter. Being a prophet seemed somehow wonderful when you read about them in the Bible. She had learned the hard way that being one in the modern world was simply isolating and lonely and difficult. It did not enhance or add to one's own life. Jeremiah was right to caution his young apprentice Baruch, "Seek great things for yourself? Seek them not."

She could not tell people she was a prophet. Not unless she wanted people to think she was ridiculous and pretentious, deluded and a liar. It sounded stupidly self-aggrandising.

The few people she had shared just small amounts of her experiences with had all reacted differently. Some had believed her, mainly because she had heavily edited the stories. Some had listened and said nothing but their silence spoke volumes. A few had tried to offer alternative explanations for her experiences. Over the years, she had learned just not to talk about it at all. There was no-one she now shared her prophetic happenings with. She was totally isolated with regards the part of her life that most defined her.

One thing she had learned, telling people the truth about the things she knew and saw only made them desperately uncomfortable. Few wanted to really believe in a God that vitally alive and present and involved in the world. People wanted God to stay in His Heaven and shut up. They didn't want Him to speak to them or interfere in their lives or have a loving and profound relationship with them. They didn't want to think about Him except when they went to church once a week (and then, not too deeply please). When they walked back out of church, they wanted to feel virtuous without having to make any changes to their life. They wanted a God who was distant and easily pacified.

In Sennett's experience, God was not like that at all. God was a whirlwind.

"Don't ever tell anyone, please," Sennett said tensely.

Silas wasn't sure anyone would believe him; at least, not anyone who hadn't lived with Sennett for two weeks like he had.

"I won't," Silas promised solemnly. He hesitated for a moment. Something was bothering him. "What is it like being able to read other people's hearts?" he asked.

"Well, it's not like reading their minds. I can't hear people's thoughts or anything. It's just that sometimes I'll say something at the same moment someone else is thinking it, just like their thought jumped into my mind without my even being conscious of it. The feelings are stronger. I can feel what other people feel if the emotion is strong enough. Sometimes I get mixed up and think they are my own emotions. As I get older, I do that less often. Of course, the strong emotions are usually the negative ones like anger or fear or hatred," Sennett explained carefully. She hated trying to put these things into words. No matter how hard she tried, language was simply inadequate to explain it and people inevitably misunderstood.

"Can you _see _what is in other people's hearts?" Silas asked curiously.

"Only vaguely," Sennett said, shaking her head to express her difficulty in explaining it, "I can see if there is a lot of darkness in someone, a lot of pain or hurt. I can sense if someone is empty or shallow. I can tell whether someone is dangerous or not, regardless of their persona. I occasionally sense a soul that is as rare as a diamond, a soul like a light shining in the darkness. That is usually a child."

"You must be a good judge of character," Silas said thoughtfully.

"If I don't talk myself out of what I sense initially," she said with a small smile.

"How do you know these things are from God?" Silas asked with a frown.

"I know its God because the things He shows me actually come to pass. I know its God because He is never what I expect. I might doubt myself if, in every encounter with God, He is precisely what I expect Him to be. However, He is _never_ what I expect. He is _more_ than I can imagine. I am not clever enough to invent the God that I know," Sennett said softly.

"What are some of the things he has shown you that came to pass?" Silas asked with fascination.

"He told me I was sick and needed a doctor about two years before I was diagnosed with Lupus. I had written in down in my personal journal and forgotten about it. A year after the diagnosis, I was reading through my old journals and found the entry," Sennett told him, taking a sip of her tea.

Silas could understand why Sennett didn't tell anyone about these things any more. He believed what she was saying but it was making him feel frightened, the way he had the night she had been praying in Latin before the bombing in Israel was reported on the news.

"Why does God show you these things you can't change?" Silas asked in bewilderment.

"I used to ask myself that a lot when I was younger," Sennett said, making herself some more tea. "I eventually learned that He just wanted someone to pray that His will be accomplished and evil be mitigated as much as possible in these events."

"There is far more you're not telling me, isn't there?" Silas eventually said, after absorbing all this.

"God's secrets are just that – secrets. It's not up to me to repeat them to anyone else," she said gently but firmly, "Particularly not the things he reveals to me about other people's lives on occasion."

Silas relaxed slightly. He felt more comfortable knowing that if God revealed anything about himself to her, Sennett was bound to stay silent about it.

"What has He told you about me?" Silas asked, which was the original question he really wanted answered anyway.

"He hasn't asked me to intercede for you, Silas, so I don't know any details about your life that you haven't told me. All I know about you is what you've told me and some very vague impressions about the type of person you are," Sennett reassured him.

"What type of person am I?" he asked in genuine perplexity. He didn't know himself.

Sennett didn't answer. When he looked up at her, he found her staring at him with tears in her eyes. In the entire two weeks he had been in her flat, he had never seen Sennett cry.

"Lost," she finally said but there was heartbreak on her face and suddenly Silas knew that although she may not know the details of his past, she knew the truth of it more accurately than any other person ever had. Her knowledge of him went through and beyond the facts. She saw his heart and what she saw hurt her to see.

She wiped her eyes with the heel of her hand. "You're lost Silas. You need to find a home somewhere in the world; a place where you feel you belong. Somewhere safe for you where you can heal from the past and have healthy relationships and know who you are," she said and then sighed.

"That's why you were never afraid of me," Silas said quietly.

Sennett nodded slowly. "I knew you weren't a murderer by nature. There are those that are," she said, "But you're not one of them."

That afternoon, Sennett went out to visit a friend who was only in London for the day.

Silas went and lay down taking one of Sennett's many books with him.

He couldn't make head or tail of the things she had told him but she had warned him that people didn't understand when she tried to explain. He did not think for a moment that she was lying about any of it. It was just that he couldn't understand it, never having experienced God in that way himself. It did awake a curious hunger to have a relationship that vital with God too. Was it really possible for him?

He did understand a great many more things about her. Why, although she seemed to have such a diverse range of friends and a large extended family, she lived alone. Why she lived alone even though she was sick. Why she had never married and didn't even have a boyfriend regardless of her physical attractions. Why she was not afraid of him and why she seemed to have an uncanny ability to anticipate his needs. Why she didn't talk about herself a great deal unless asked specific questions. Why she had such authority when she spoke about spiritual matters. Why she attracted friends like Seraphim into her life.

There was a large part of Sennett that she was unable to share with anyone. He imagined that must be very lonely but then it was hard to imagine she could be too lonely with so many friends and colleagues and so much family in France. Her isolation was almost self-imposed because of her strange calling. His had been as a direct result of circumstances he had no control over. It didn't matter why either of them was lonely, the fact remained was that they were. Yet another thing they unexpectedly had in common.

On her way back from seeing an old friend that she had studied with at Oxford as an Undergraduate, she popped in to see Seraphim. She had bought him some cookies from the café. He had a weakness for sweet things.

"I just wanted to thank you for all the kind things you're doing for Silas. It's doing him the world of good to have a friend," Sennett said, handing over the bag of cookies.

Seraphim was very pleased. He bustled around making them a cup of tea in his small flat.

"It's all my pleasure," he said truthfully, "I like the boy."

Sennett reflected that a person who was in their mid-thirties was hardly a boy but she supposed to Seraphim he probably seemed that way. She probably seemed like a girl to him too.

"Mind you, I think I'm not his first or best friend," he said, looking meaningfully at Sennett.

"Mmmm," Sennett said noncommittally, taking the offered cup of tea and sitting down at Seraphim's table.

"How has it been for you, having a stranger in your flat and taking care of him?" Seraphim asked kindly but with a shrewd look.

"It's forced me to be less selfish," Sennett admitted with a wry smile.

"He is a very unusual person. As you must know, he's had a tragic life," Seraphim said matter-of-factly.

"I had gathered that," Sennett agreed.

"Very few people would know how to deal with him. You've done a wonderful job giving him a space to heal," he said.

"He's no trouble at all," Sennett said.

"I'm only afraid that he may get too dependent on you," Seraphim said, the kindly shrewd look back in his eye.

"He's looking at joining an Order once he's healed," Sennett said, "He just doesn't want one with any connections to Opus Dei, so enquiries are going to have to be made discreetly."

This surprised Seraphim. He didn't know if going back to religious life would be the best thing for Silas. Silas needed to learn that the world was not always a scary place. He needed to find out that it could be friendly and safe and good. He would not learn that behind the thick walls of a monastery. He would have too much time to brood and think and magnify all the terrible things in his past if he went into a contemplative Order.

It also meant that Silas was not developing an unhealthy attachment to Sennett. That was a good thing. Sennett was good company and a real friend but she did not allow too many people too close. That could be hurtful for Silas if he became too attached in the wrong way. It was the last thing he needed.

"Why don't you come back to my flat for dinner? You mentioned bringing Silas Holy Communion," Sennett suggested.

"Yes, I've got it here," Seraphim said, pointing to the brass pix on the table, "And I would love to come for dinner."


	15. Chapter 15

A/N - to Armand SS - thanks for your reviews. Yes, I do know someone with Lupus - myself. I decided to give my OC the same disease because it is one that not very many people know much about. Unlike cancer and diabetes and cerebral palsy, etc., it doesn't get much media coverage. This is my way of spreading a bit of knowledge about it. It also heightens the dramatic tension a bit too.

To others who have asked - yes, this is still a romance. It's a slow burn as I don't think Silas has the emotional health to jump into a good relationship immediately and I couldn't bear to give him a bad one.

There are supernatural aspects in this chapter. For those who don't believe in this kind of thing, please just enjoy the story for it's own sake. Thank you to the people who are kind enough to make the time to review. You keep me posting each chapter.

**Chapter Fifteen**

_"Behold, I send an Angel before you to keep you in the way and to bring you into the place which I have prepared." _

_Exodus 23:20_

Sennett received an email at work from DNA Solutions at around 11am the following day. She hesitated to open it. She was fairly sure of the answer already but so much rested on it. Biting her lip, she double-clicked on it and began to read.

_Sample 1 consisted of two bones, one a piece of true rib from the anterior right hand side of the body; the second a third metatarsal bone from the left foot. Sample 1 also consisted of several full hair strands, most including the hair root._

_Sample 2 consisted of approximately 20 full hair strands including the hair root._

_Sample 1 belongs to a woman whose DNA most closely matches DNA obtained from ancient samples from the Middle East, with particular reference to first centuary Israel and Judah. Her racial origin is 100 percent Jewish. The sample yielded 99 percent accurate DNA._

So there was a very good chance indeed that it really was the bones of Mary Magdalene, Sennett thought with awe.

_Sample 2 belongs to a woman whose DNA most closely matches other DNA obtained from modern France, with particular reference to the Normandy region. Her racial origin is 100 percent Gallic Caucasian. The sample yielded 99.9 percent accurate DNA._

_The purpose of the test was to establish ancestry between Sample 1 and Sample 2. The results show that there is no ancestral link between Sample 1 and Sample 2 within 99.9 percent of certainty. _

_In order for ancestry to be established, there must be matching or near matching 37 marker Y-DNA results as well as anomalies in their DNA signatures that make it a virtual certainty that the samples have a common paternal ancestor. This was not the case in these test results. There were no matching or near matching Y-DNA results or anomalies in the DNA signatures to suggest a common ancestor._

Sennett let her breath out slowly and smiled. She almost laughed out loud. She had been so certain but now she was vindicated.

The modern day Priory of Sion was a fake and worthy of the indifference they had received from historians. The only question left to be answered was why a small group within Opus Dei had ever bothered to pay attention to them at all.

Sennett printed out the email to give to Silas that evening.

Silas could tell from Sennett's face when she came in that the results were back. With a triumphant smile which told him the answer already, she handed him the printed email.

He read it immediately, his attitude one of total absorption.

He suddenly felt unsteady on his feet and went and sat down on the couch. He sat with the paper dangling between his knees and his white head bent as the full realization of the results sunk in. He had killed for nothing. At least five people had died, if not more, for no reason.

Sennett saw his reaction with pity and left him alone to process it all.

Why had the Teacher and Bishop Aringarosa been so afraid of a bunch of fakes; afraid enough to make him into an assassin, Silas thought furiously?

The final bit of reality from his old life in Opus Dei collapsed within him and disappeared like mist under a hot sun. He felt very empty all of a sudden, far more so than usual.

If he could not believe what he was told by a Roman Catholic Bishop, what could he believe? What was true and what was a lie? Perhaps everything he had ever been told in his life was a lie. Perhaps God Himself was a lie? Perhaps Sennett wasn't a prophet but some kind of freak of nature, who knew? Nothing seemed real, nothing seemed true, nothing could be trusted. He felt the same way he had before he had found God – or thought he had found God.

Suddenly Silas was terrified. He remembered what life was like without God; a black abyss without any hope or light.

"If You are there", Silas prayed silently, "Show me a sign so I may believe again."

Silas went to bed early after Diggory had been to change his dressings. He could not eat any dinner. Despite the usual medication, he lay awake for a long time staring into the dark.

With a heavy heart, Sennett put aside some food covered in plastic wrap should he want it later. She did not remember seeing Silas in such a bad state, not even when he had first been shot. She had a feeling the road ahead for Silas would be very long.

Silas got up very early. He was ravenously hungry. Pulling on his dressing gown, he made his way towards the kitchen, only to find Sennett standing at the door in her own dressing gown speaking to someone.

It was 6am and the sun was only just beginning to come up. Sennett never got up this early.

Sennett had her back to him, so Silas couldn't see her face. At the door was a very tall man on the right side of forty (although otherwise, it was hard to tell his age). His broad shoulders almost filled the doorway. Silas was a large man but this stranger dwarfed him somewhat. His hair was short, curly and a dirty blonde colour. His eyes were a curious blue; pale like Silas' but that was where the similarity ended. This man's eyes were the colour of the sea over pure silver sand under a hot tropical sky; the translucent, silvery blue of beaches in Tahiti.

At first Silas assumed it was one of Sennett's many and varied friends dropping by, albeit at such an odd time. He was dressed like a student of some kind in Khakis and a beige anorak. He looked very relaxed and positive, his eyes shone clear of any anxiety or self-consciousness or worry. In that way, his expression was quite extraordinary. Silas had never seen that look on any other human being's face.

The tall stranger was looking down at Sennett with an expression that made Silas bristle although there was nothing untoward in it. He was simply smiling down at the small woman in a friendly fashion, as though he knew her quite well and was kindly disposed to her.

He didn't stay long. After having a brief conversation, the stranger put something into Sennett's hand and then loped off down one of the cobbled streets, not stopping to wave. Sennett watched until he disappeared around a corner and then shaking her head, shut the door.

When she turned around, Silas could see she was smiling and her eyes were shining. There was an air of incredulity around her, however, as though she couldn't quite believe that she had seen who she had seen.

"A friend of yours?" Silas asked diffidently, squashing down the irritating jealousy that he had felt for any number of reasons. The man had intimidated him and he didn't like how close he seemed to be to Sennett. Silas was used to having Sennett almost to himself.

"Not exactly but sort of," Sennett said mysteriously, looking hard pressed to put it any more clearly, "I've known him a long, long time. I first met him at 16. I've hardly ever seen him since," she admitted. Sennett gave Silas a long, assessing gaze. "He had a message for you," she suddenly said.

Silas felt shocked. Had his enemies tracked him down? How did this man know he was there?

"A message for me?" Silas repeated, his heart beating faster.

"Yes, he said you were to investigate the Engelberg Abbey. It's a Benedictine Monastery in Switzerland. He said you would be safe there once you were ready to leave London," Sennett said with perfect calm.

Silas felt suspicion like a black mist descend on his mind. He had been tricked and betrayed and used by nearly every person in his life. Who was to say this wasn't some kind of plot to place him into the hands of the very people he was trying to avoid? Why was the message so specific? Why wasn't it just _any_ Benedictine Order? Why this one in particular?

"The Abbot is very anti-Opus Dei, apparently. He would hide you for as long as you needed," Sennett continued.

Silas' lips thinned in anger. He felt backed into a corner. He had no sure way of knowing whether this message was from a friend or foe. He had no idea who the man was. Why should Silas listen to him? How could this stranger know he was looking into possible Orders to join unless Sennett told him? Why had Sennett told this man and exposed him to possible danger?

"Why did you tell this friend about me?" Silas hissed, his pale eyes lighting up again in that peculiar way.

"I didn't," Sennett said coolly.

"How did he know then?" Silas asked, almost like an accusation.

Sennett held out her hand and in the palm was a silver brooch in the shape of a Celtic knot. It was very beautiful and in perfect condition.

Silas stared at it for a long time. It had been nearly thirty years since he had last seen it. The blue fire died out of his eyes.

"Where did you get that?" Silas asked, his voice harsh with emotion.

"Our visitor this morning gave it to me to give to you. He said you would know what it was," Sennett replied tranquilly.

Silas took a hesitant step forward and took the pretty thing from Sennett's palm. He turned it over and looked at the engraving on the back. "It was my mother's," he whispered, "She bought it with her from Ireland when she married my father. I sold it when I was seven to feed myself, among other small valuables I took when I ran away. That was before I began stealing," he said with shame, almost more to himself than to her.

Sennett's face crumpled with emotion. She had no idea that's what her visitor had given her as a token and Silas' story cut through her emotions like a knife.

"Who was he?" Silas asked insistently, his voice calmer but more determined.

"I think he was an angel," Sennett said slowly. She was frowning and her gaze was turned inward. "God must think you're very important," she added musingly.

Silas stared at her. Did he believe her or not? Goodness only knows - he had seen more strange things in this flat than he had in all of the places he had ever been in put together. But what if she was lying, like everyone else he had ever met?

But then there was the brooch which had been lost to him for over thirty years. Where the hell would Sennett or that man or anyone else have got it from after all this time? How would they have connected it to him? It was uncanny. The creeping feeling of fear was coming back to Silas. He was forced to believe whether he wanted to or not.

"Just how often do you talk to angels?" he asked in a low voice, still fingering the bright broach and not talking to her.

"Not often," Sennett said in a way that made Silas sure there was a great deal she was concealing from him.

"Why you?" Silas asked plainly, his pale eyes questioning.

"Why me, indeed," Sennett agreed, laughing humourlessly and shaking her head to express the same confusion. She was silent for a moment. "It's not easy to carry these secrets," she said finally, "I don't blame you if you don't believe me. I don't blame you at all."

"You don't care whether I go to this Engelberg Monestary?" Silas asked, his remaining suspicions still niggling at him.

Sennett had turned to go into the kitchen and she turned her head back to look at him strangely. "I don't care at all," she said with a shrug, "You must do what you think best. It is unlikely our visitor will be back to force you," she added ironically.


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

_Be kindly affectionate to one another with brotherly love, in honor giving preference to one another._

_Romans 12:10_

On Wednesday, Seraphim came to visit Silas. Over a pot of tea, Silas asked,

"Would you do something to help me, Your Grace?"

Seraphim looked surprised but pleased, "If I can, Silas," he replied.

"I want to investigate an Abbey in Switzerland who may take me in. I don't want to reveal my identity until I know the Abbot's position on Opus Dei. Would you write on my behalf and not mention my name or that I'm currently in London?" he asked humbly.

Seraphim pondered this. It seemed a simple thing to do. He felt no fear in recommending Silas although he wasn't sure that Silas would be suited to monastic life in the long term. Perhaps a year or two as a Novice would give them the confidence to strike out on his own eventually before taking his final vows.

"I will do as you ask me," Seraphim said simply.

Silas was relieved. He knew of no other way of making enquires. An Abbot was sure to respect the recommendations of an Orthodox Bishop.

Before Seraphim left, Silas gave him a slip of paper with the Abbot's name and the Abbey's address. Seraphim put it in his pocket and waved cheerfully to Silas as we went off home to his cluttered and cosy flat.

When he got back to his flat, he rang Sennett at her work to discuss Silas' request.

"I'll see to any expenses like air fare and a contribution to the Abbey," Sennett said immediately, "I think he needs to have some idea of what his immediate future holds in order to finish healing."

"You won't miss him?" Seraphim probed gently.

"Of course I'll miss him but I want what's best for Silas too. It's about time somebody started thinking about what was best for him rather than being selfish," Sennett replied without hesitation.

"You're a good friend and a good woman, Sennett," Seraphim said.

"Tell St Peter that when I get to the Pearly Gates," Sennett joked.

That night, Seraphim sat up late at his laptop composing a letter to the Abbot.

_Dear Abbot D,_

_I write to you on behalf of a friend of mine who has asked me, for now, to keep his identity and location a secret._

_He was a numerary of Opus Dei and wishes to escape his past association with the organisation. There is good reason for this. Under obedience to a Superior, he did things that now make it difficult for him to leave his past behind. _

_This friend is still a young man of thirty-five and has spent the past 10 years within Opus Dei. His past before Opus Dei was cruel and difficult, and made him an easy target for the manipulations of clever and educated men. He was used like a tool in the hands of his masters, who had little regard for the effect on his soul._

_He has made a full and honest confession to me and received absolution. The seal of the confessional binds my lips but why remember and reveal what God Himself has chosen to both forgive and forget?_

_This friend of mine now seeks the sanctuary of a monastery without the repressive and controlling spirit of Opus Dei. He wishes to study further (he speaks Latin fluently), and discover a new and better and freer way of relating to God than he has been taught. _

_I believe that my friend needs to learn to trust people and trust life. If you community can show him how to do this, I believe you will have done a great work. This man has good reason to trust nobody and nothing. All of his foundational relationships have been marked with violence and betrayal, even within the Church. _

_I do not believe this man is in any way dangerous to your community. He is a humble man, used to authority. He will obey anyone who treats him with friendliness – therein lies his terrible and pitiful vulnerability. This man needs to learn the difference between self-serving friendliness and true, selfless kindness. My friend has not eaten often of the Fruits of the Spirit in others. He needs to be fed on them now – love, kindness, forgiveness, patience, peace, gentleness, goodness. He cannot have too much of these things from others now. _

_In return, my friend will be sure to give you loyalty and obedience and discretion. These things are fundamental to his nature. They must not be abused in the future as they have in the past._

_Although not well educated, my friend is intelligent and would benefit from further study as well as learning more practical skills that will enable him to make his way in the world if that is what he eventually chooses. I believe the disciplined and highly structured life of a Benedictine would suit him well as he is naturally ascetic. He would need to be watched to ensure he did not overdo his asceticism, if anything. Opus Dei had a disastrous effect on him in this regard, encouraging self-damaging practices which he undertook too rigorously to the detriment of his health and strength._

_I commend this young man to you and ask you to consider taking him under your wing and within the protection of your community. I believe he will repay anything that is done for him with hard work and obedience. This young man has another friend who is willing to undertake any expenses that accepting him into your community would incur and is well able to do so._

_Thank you for your time and consideration,_

_Seraphim S, _

_Bishop of the Russian Orthodox Church_

The Abbot Philemon read the Bishop's letter with mixed feelings. On one hand, he immediately wanted to take the young man into the community simply to inconvenience Opus Dei, an organisation that he deeply mistrusted. He also immediately knew this reaction was probably merely spiteful rather than necessarily in the man's best interests. By now, the Abbot had learned to stand back from his own emotions and examine them for their appropriateness. He felt no sense of shame over his malice towards Opus Dei. He knew of many others who had left and never managed to regain a normal life again. However, he could not let his ill will, justified or not, decide what was best for this unusual man.

He would pray and meditate, and reply before the end of the week.

By the following Tuesday, Seraphim had a reply.

_Your Grace,_

_I was deeply interested to read your account of this unusual young man but unfortunately, not surprised. It is no secret within my Denomination that I am no supporter of Opus Dei, a position which has cost me dearly in the past but which I cannot regret. I am not shocked to hear of his mistreatment at their hands as I have heard similar accounts many times before. I agree that this man needs to learn that there are other, and much healthier and well-balanced ways to be Christian and that his own Church, the Catholic Church, is a vast and diverse thing where he will be able to find a safe place._

_I am concerned to read of his past before Opus Dei but again, hardly surprised. It is exactly the lost and lonely that Opus Dei would concentrate the worst of their excesses on. No numerary recruited from a large super numerary family would have been subjected to the abuse this young man has but there are many recruits who, like him, were taken out of insecure and isolated lives into Opus Dei. These are, without doubt, the ones who always suffer the most at the hands of those in power._

_I would be happy to take this friend of yours into the community on a trial basis for several weeks. If he settles in well and wishes to stay, he may then begin as a Novice as he is already beyond Postulancy stage having the training from Opus Dei. If he completes his first year as a Novice, he may become a Profitent and take a 3 year vow. Once the Triennium is over, he can choose to be fully professed. _

_The only costs we will ask to be covered are any traveling expenses to the Abbey and a set of the robes of the Novice. After that, your friend will earn his own way by working within the Abbey as we all do._

_I can promise you that your friend will be as safe as possible from the clutches of Opus Dei in our community and no further harm shall come to him at their hands that is within our power to prevent. _

_I would be very interested to meet you, Your Grace. I have enormous respect for the Russian Orthodox. It is a beautiful expression of Christianity and your reverential awe of God is to be admired in this modern world that tries to make God in our own image rather than a sacred mystery that He is._

_If you let me know when your friend is coming, I will prepare a place for him._

_Regards,_

_Abbot Philemon._

"What made you think of trying this Abbey?" Seraphim asked Sennett curiously, having received the reply.

"Silas seemed to be interested in monastic rather than apostolic orders. Of course, only the Benedictines and their off-shoots like the Cisterians are truly monastic. That narrowed it down considerably. Then there was the consideration of extradition. There is no extradition from Switzerland. He will be safe there," Sennett said mildly, deliberately not mentioning the angel.

"It is extraordinary good luck that the Abbot is so deeply opposed to Opus Dei," Seraphim said, not convinced he had the full story.

"It is, isn't it?" Sennett said, her dark eyes wide and innocent.

In the meantime, Silas was getting stronger every day. The doctor had decreased his pain medication, so he was no longer sleeping all day. He whiled away the hours in Sennett's flat reading her books and finding out everything he could about the Benedictines over the internet.

He felt ambivalent about living at Engelberg Abbey even if the Bishop did manage to convince the Abbot to take him. He put it down to not being quite sure that the whole thing wasn't a trap. Then again, why wouldn't Sennett just call the Police and have him arrested or contact Opus Dei and tell them where he was if that was the case? Why the elaborate plot to get him to Switzerland, a place with no extradition? No, his own fears didn't make sense. He knew it but he still felt ambivalent about Engelberg.

He found it increasingly lonely in the flat while Sennett was out at work during the day. Often, the Bishop would drop round in the late afternoon and occasionally stay for dinner. On the Sunday before the Abbot's reply came, the Bishop brought around communion for Silas again and stayed to lunch.

It struck Silas that Sennett knew a lot of people. He was not overly surprised that she knew people like the Bishop because of her area of expertise. Her range of friends due to her academic pursuits was diverse but somewhat expected. She seemed to have friends from all walks of life however, including a fairly even split between men and woman, young and old, educated and uneducated, rich and poor. She was also in contact with her family on a regular basis even at arms length. They seemed to expect a great deal of her. In some ways, Silas envied this and in others, he was glad to be on his own in the world without those demands.

Sennett and Silas talked over dinner and breakfast each day, and Sennett was able to answer almost any question that Silas put to her about the Catholic Church outside of Opus Dei. Over the days and weeks, he had built up a much clearer, well-balanced and more realistic picture of the faith. He was still hesitant and awkward about starting conversations by asking questions but as time went on, he learned to overcome it somewhat as Sennett never reacted strangely to any of his questions regardless of what they were. The only time she occasionally faltered was if he asked her about her own prophetic gift.

"The Bishop said we were to love all men," Silas said thoughtfully one evening.

"What about the women?" Sennett joked wryly, quite sure that Silas would have no more idea of the feminist movement than a baby. She was right. He stared at her blankly. "Sorry Silas, I know what you mean. I was just teasing you again. What were you saying?" she said ruefully.

"Well, I don't know what that means," Silas admitted, "Do you?"

Sennett put down her fork slowly and stared at Silas with sadness. She was sure he would have no idea at all. How could someone who had never been shown real love know what it was?

"Well, God doesn't love people generally en masse. He loves each of us individually and personally, right?" Sennett said.

"He does?" Silas asked wonderingly.

Sennett paused and thought about how she would explain it. "To love people generally is useless. Jesus didn't love all people _generally_ did He? He loved each individual He came across specifically by healing them if they were sick, by forgiving their sins, by showing them compassion for their hurts, by eating and laughing and sharing with them, by getting to know them and sharing life with them – okay?" Sennett said.

Silas nodded.

"To love people generally is just a feeling, just an emotion. It doesn't do anyone any good. For example, if I had seen you bleeding to death in the grotto behind the Oratory and just stood there and projected a general sort of love your way and then left you to die – what good would that have done you? It would have been no use to you at all, regardless of how genuine the feeling was. In order for the love to be real, I would have to do something to help you. In the same way, it's no use to say to a sick person, 'I love you' and not give them medicine or to a person in jail, 'I care about you' and never visit them or tell a friend how much you care about them but never spend time with them listening to them and showing an interest in their life. Love is practical and it is shown to individuals, not to humanity as a whole," Sennett said, wrinkling her forehead and she tried to explain.

This was a thought that had never entered Silas' head before. Love was action, not just emotion. In order to love, you had to find out the needs of each person you met and do your best to meet them. You had to get to know a person one-on-one. Jesus didn't go out for huge charity drives en masse, He simply gave each person He came across what He could. If every person on the planet did that, no-one would want for anything. No-one would be lonely and no-one would be hungry and everyone who was sick would be taken care of.

"That's why you have so many friends," Silas said suddenly in his deep voice, "You love each of them individually in a useful way."

"Or maybe I just know a lot of people," Sennett joked but pleased Silas would think that of her.

"No, you know how to love," Silas said seriously, "I don't know how," he added to himself, frowning and shaking his white head.

"I don't know that you've had a great many good examples to show you how," Sennett said cautiously, not wanting to upset him.

Silas fell into a brown study. Bishop Aringarosa had visited him in jail, had fed him when he was injured in a serious fight with other inmates, had talked with him about God and answered the multitude of questions Silas had from reading the Bible he had found in his cell. Aringarosa had done the same for others in the jail as part of his pastoral role as a priest but his kindness had stayed with Silas. After the jail wall had collapsed in an earthquake, Silas had escaped to find him. Silas found him in the town's church, being attacked by a pair of robbers who had just fled the same jail Silas had. Without even thinking, Silas had killed them both to save Aringarosa. In a moment of revelation to Silas, Aringarosa had called him an angel. It was the first time anyone had ever called him anything affirmative. Silas had clung to the image like a drowning man, even calling himself the Messenger of God a decade later as an Opus Dei numerary. It had become his identity when he had wanted to forget everything else he had ever been – thief, murderer, street kid, jailbird, freak, ugly, the list went on…

Now he was confused. Aringarosa had loved him according to Sennett's definition. What had gone wrong? Why had the Bishop betrayed his trust in the end, sending Silas to murder innocent (if deluded) men and thereby endangering his immortal soul? Did the Bishop love him or not?

Sennett could see the painful confusion on Silas' face. "What's wrong?" she asked gently.

"Bishop Aringarosa - he told me to murder those Priory Guardians!" Silas burst out, "But before then, he visited me in jail and fed me and took care of my injuries and helped me understand God and gave me a home at Opus Dei. He showed me a lot of love, according to what you say. But he still hurt me too, ordering me to murder innocent men!"

Sennett sighed and glanced away, her vision turning inwards. Sometimes Silas' view of the world could be very black and white.

"Just because someone can show you love doesn't mean they can't also hurt you," Sennett said flatly, speaking from her own experience within her own family, "I think the Bishop did care about you but he got twisted up from the lies he was told by this Teacher person. He desperately wanted to protect the Church and it made him lose perspective completely," Sennett paused, "As though one man could protect the whole of the Church; that's God's job," she added almost to herself. "At any rate, he abused the trust you had in him in order to serve what he thought was a greater purpose – being the saviour of the Church."

Silas looked confused, "Then how do you know who to trust?" he asked.

"You can't really trust anybody but if you don't give people your trust and risk being hurt, you will never be able to give and receive love. No-one is completely good or completely bad. Are you completely good?" she asked him rhetorically.

_No_, Silas thought, _I am completely bad_. He itched to put on a cilice once again but he squashed the thought down. He was never going to do that again. He had promised himself. On the other hand, he was glad to know that Sennett thought the Bishop had really cared about him, however inadequately.

"Does that happen to you?" Silas asked her curiously, "Are you hurt by people who love you?"

Sennett smiled at him, "All the time," she admitted honestly, "My father was very abusive but he loved me too. It was very confusing," she told him, admitting something to him that she rarely told anyone hoping it might help.

"How do you cope with that?" Silas asked, awestruck by her ability to cope. He had killed his own abusive father when he had killed Silas' mother. Having to live all your life with an abusive father seemed an impossible ask to Silas.

"Well, I tried to love him out of it for 25 years of my life. I realized eventually that I couldn't change him, no matter how much I forgave or loved him. He didn't want to change himself. He couldn't admit any fault within himself and so didn't feel the need to change. In the end, to protect myself, I had to cut him out of my life. It was the best thing I ever did but it took a long time to make that decision. I clung to hope much longer than I should have," Sennett said simply, "Every child needs their father. You know that."

Silas hadn't known that because he had buried his need for his father under a huge pile of churning, boiling hatred.

"I hated my father," Silas admitted shamefacedly.

"I told myself I hated my father too. I was easier to simplify the complex emotions I felt for him into something as uncomplicated and strong as hatred but it wasn't the truth. I still loved him too. I was angry with him, bitterly so. I pitied him because I could see how miserable he really was underneath all the bullying and I knew he had suffered as a kid. I was exasperated with his stupid lies and irritated by his manipulative behaviour. I hated the way he treated Mum and the way she almost colluded with him at times. Most of all, I needed something from him that he couldn't give me and that created a lot of grief," Sennett said slowly.

Silas had been too young when he had murdered his father out of anger and grief over his mother. He had not had 25 years of trying to work out a relationship with his father to come to terms with it all. Once more however, it was something else he and Sennett had in common; an impossible relationship with their father.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen**

_Do not forsake your own friend_

_Proverbs 27:10_

Seraphim made his way over to Sennett's flat once he received the Abbot's letter. He felt ambivalent once more. He knew Silas would be safe in Switzerland which was good but he had doubts about Silas' vocation. His time at Opus Dei had been very unhealthy. It was no true indication of a vocation to have lived an extreme ascetic life in an extreme sector of the Church like Opus Dei. It seemed to the Bishop that it was just Silas' way of escaping from a world that had been very cruel to him into a place that seemed safe, although it hadn't been at all.

He had the feeling that Silas wasn't all that enthusiastic either, although he was trying to take it all seriously and learn as much as he could. There was a restlessness about him that worried Seraphim, like Silas might take it into his head to run away from the Abbey after awhile. If he did, he just hoped that Silas stayed in a country with no extradition like Switzerland.

"Are you looking forward to going to Engelberg?" Sennett asked, the Tuesday night they received the reply from the Abbot.

Seraphim watched Silas carefully as he replied, "Yes, I think so," he said slowly, frowning.

Seraphim wasn't convinced.

"I think I am a little uncertain because I don't know what it will be like and there will be a whole community of men that I don't know," Silas said.

"There are only sixty including the Abbot," Sennett said with a laugh, "It won't take you long to get to know them, living with them every day."

"Sixty is quite large for these days," Seraphim said musingly.

"Have you seen pictures of the Abbey and its church and the little town?" Sennett said, "I want to go and live there too! It's absolutely gorgeous."

"No women allowed," Silas said in his deep, grating voice.

"No kidding! We're not even allowed into the _library_. Can you believe it's the twenty-first centuary? It's a disgrace. Someone like me with all my degrees can't even get in to look at those fabulous manuscripts," Sennett said with utter disgust.

"I'm sure someone like you could get permission," Seraphim said mildly and truthfully.

"That's not the point," Sennett muttered wrathfully with narrowed eyes.

Silas couldn't understand why Sennett cared so much. After all, there were plenty of convents that didn't allow men in them just as magnificent, if not more so, than Engelberg.

"In that case, you won't be able to accompany Silas there," Seraphim said thoughtfully.

"No, I'd already figured that out. I was going to ask you to go if the Abbot accepted Silas," Sennett said frankly, "I'm going to charter a small plane. I don't think commercial flights would be a good idea for Silas at the moment."

"That makes sense for a short hop like that. It should only take just over an hour in the air," Seraphim estimated.

Silas could feel doubt creeping up on him again. He felt events were out of his control. He could feel himself on a path to Engelberg that he could not escape from should he wish to. He wasn't sure of anything.

Sennett had noticed that Silas was very quiet.

"I hope you understand that you don't have to go to Engelberg if you don't wish to," Sennett said gently, "You're welcome to stay here as long as you need to in order to choose what you want to do next. I am a bit afraid that if you stay in London however, you will eventually be found. I'd hate that to happen."

"You could stay with me too," Seraphim offered cheerfully although his one bedroom flat was considerably more crowded than Sennett's elegant Kensington flat.

Once again, Silas pondered, Sennett had picked up on his thoughts. It could get very creepy, that ability of hers. It made him frightened every time it happened.

"I think," Silas said slowly, "It would be best for me to go to Engelberg, at least for the time being. There will be plenty of time during the Novitiate for me to make up my mind."

The plane was booked for Friday. Diggory was happy with the progress of Silas' healing and would take the stitches out before he left. He had given Silas exercises to keep the healing tissue supple and enough medication to see him through until he was fully healed.

"Did you know Silas has been here nearly a full four weeks?" Sennett said to Seraphim when he came round to meet Silas for the trip. Sennett would be taking them out to the airport in a hire car rather than risking Silas on public transport. They were flying out at night too, to minimize the chances of anyone spotting Silas' unique colouring even under a hood and sunglasses. Silas would get to Engelberg around 10pm that night after the drive from the airport to Engelberg at the other end.

"In some ways it feels longer and in others, hardly any time at all," Seraphim said musingly, as they waited for Silas to finish gathering his belongings into the suitcase Sennett had bought for him.

Unknown to Silas, Sennett has already transferred a large sum to the Abbey. She had made a large donation as well as sending money for Silas' robes. She wanted to make sure that Silas received the best possible welcome, although she had no doubts that the Engelberg Abbey community would do that anyway.

Finally Silas came out of his room with his suitcase, his hood over his head and his sunglasses already on. The sun had just gone down and the hire car was parked in a nearby laneway.

"I guess it's time to go," Sennett said with an odd feeling. It would be strange to come back to the flat knowing Silas would never be in it again.

The drive to the airport was fortunately uneventful. Seraphim and Silas boarded the small plane without incident. Seraphim was to stay in the Abbey for a couple of days on retreat as a special guest of the Abbot. He had been thrilled to hear Seraphim was accompanying his latest Novice as he had sincerely wanted to meet the Orthodox Bishop. It would give Silas an opportunity to settle in with a familiar face around too and also give Seraphim a chance to fill in the Abbot with further details about Silas without breaking the seal of the confessional, of course.

Just before they boarded, Sennett said good-bye to Silas. She couldn't see his eyes because he was still wearing his sunglasses. Without thinking, she stepped forward and hugged him the way she would any good friend she was saying goodbye to. It was a light embrace, their bodies hardly touching but she felt Silas' entire body freeze into immobility. Sennett realized she had made a mistake. Silas wasn't used to being touched at all. He didn't hug her back, didn't even raise his arms to put them around her. Sennett felt something as cold as ice lodge under her ribs. She remembered all too well how it felt to hug someone who didn't hug her back. Her father would do it to her all the time. Intermittently, she'd forget how he reacted and would hug him on a special occasion and every time, he would do the frozen routine. It was such a terrible rejection every time, like being dashed with icy cold water. It was utterly humiliating too and often, he'd do it in front of others. All the memories came back to Sennett in a dreadful, hideous rush. She had actually forgotten it until just that moment. They suddenly overwhelmed her and she had to fight them down.

Hurriedly she stepped away, confused by the rush of memories and the emotions they created. Trying to squash them and appear normal, she turned to Seraphim and gave him a hug as she had many times before. He returned the embrace enthusiastically. Seraphim liked hugs. It made Sennett feel a bit better.

Sennett waited in the hanger and watched the plane taxi away. She waved from the doorway as it disappeared onto the runway, too far away for them to see each other anymore. Before it took off, Sennett got into the car and headed back to Kensington. She didn't know what she felt but there was relief underlying it; perhaps just relief that the goodbye was over. Sennett hated goodbyes. This one had been an almost non-event. She realized that Silas probably had no idea how to say goodbye graciously to a friend, not having had much chance to develop social skills but his almost complete emotional withdrawal at the time was still hurtful. Perhaps the monks at Engelberg would help him learn these things.

Silas sat on the plane feeling very odd. No-one had ever hugged him in his life – not ever. He couldn't compare it to the cold embraces exchanged in the brief sexual encounters in his early life. It was different. Sennett had hugged him like a friend would, with affection and liking. It was stranger and more precious than mere sex. He was so surprised and pleased that he was literally stunned into immobility. When he glimpsed the expression on her averted face as she pulled hastily away from him, he could have kicked himself. He should have hugged her back. He wanted to but had been too astounded to move quickly enough. Then it was too late. He envied the ease with which Seraphim pulled the slight woman into a close, warm embrace.

After that, there was little to do but say goodbye and wave.

For the hour plus flight to Zurich, Silas berated himself for the mistake. He alternated between remembering the pleasure of the hug and feeling stupid. He couldn't forget the look on her face when she had stepped away. He felt ashamed by his own idiocy.

After dropping the hire car back, Sennett walked the couple of well-lit streets back to her flat. If she got mugged, it couldn't possibly make her any more miserable. Then again, no-one got mugged in Kensington. It was too expensive for muggers to hang out in; they'd stick out like sore thumbs.

She pushed open the door of her flat and tiredly closed it behind her. She had been right; the flat did seem very empty now. She hardly wanted to venture into it far enough to make a cup of tea. She forced herself to do it, scolding herself for being melodramatic.

As she sipped her tea, she contemplated that the problem with being unlonely for awhile was that you had to get used to being lonely all over again. You had to start from scratch. Her flat had never seemed empty to her before. It did now. It was as simple as that. She didn't even feel like contacting any of her friends tomorrow to see if anyone was available to do anything. She just wanted to hole up and be miserable.

She didn't even know why she was miserable, apart from the flat being empty. It wasn't as though she and Silas had really been close. Yes, they'd told each other all sorts of secrets that neither of them had probably ever told anyone else (apart from the confessional) but that sort of thing could create a false intimacy. It was like the years when she used to date and men would tell her every gory detail of their life almost on the first date. Not only was it a way of sucking up sympathy (whilst also boring her to death) but it also created a false intimacy that could be mistaken for something more significant than it was.

Silas hadn't expected sympathy, interestingly enough. He had expected condemnation. When it hadn't been forthcoming, he was surprised. She smiled to herself. Silas sure was a funny person.

"I hope you're happy at Engelberg," Sennett whispered to the ghost of Silas in her flat, "and I hope you find everything in life that you need and that you're looking for."

It was like a prayer.

That night when Sennett went to bed, she had a good cry. It was her first in a long, long time.

Silas lay awake on his own cot in his cell at Engelberg. In some ways, it was eerily like Opus Dei but perhaps even more starkly simple.

The Abbey itself was very beautiful and the Church was stunning. He hadn't seen it firsthand himself yet, arriving so late but he had looked at many pictures on the internet.

He didn't care right now. He felt hollow and not much else. He didn't like being in an unfamiliar room in an unfamiliar place. He wanted to be back in his bed in Sennett's spare room. At least it was familiar and he felt safe there. He trusted Sennett and Seraphim and Diggory. He didn't know who to trust here.

He was still burning over not saying goodbye to Sennett properly. He didn't think he had even said thank you to her which was unforgivable after everything she had given him so freely. It was like he had shut down completely and was unable to say everything he wanted to say. He felt like an ungrateful fool.

But he didn't feel ungrateful. What use was his gratitude if he didn't have the common sense to communicate it? With a feeling of resolution, he determined to email Sennett in the next few days to at least say 'thank you'. He was sure the Abbey had access to the internet.

Slowly, his eyes stinging, he fell into an uneasy sleep.

As it turned out, the Abbey did have internet access and they had permission to use it on a Saturday to communicate with friends and family. They could really have logged on at any time but it would have meant breaking their vows of obedience and none of the men would have dreamt of it.

The day was so strictly timetabled that the only way to use the internet was to give up some sleep during the evening rest period. As such, most of the brothers only used it occasionally which meant Silas didn't have to wait for a turn to use the computers in the magnificent library.

Silas pulled the small notebook Sennett had given him with her contact details, and Seraphim and Diggory's details in case he needed to get in touch. He logged onto yahoo and quickly created an account for himself. Previously if he needed to use email, he had used an address that Opus Dei had created for him but he would never use it again. This time, he used a name that could not be traced back to him.

_Sennett,_

_I just wanted to send you an email to say thank you for everything you did for me during the past month. Not many people would have taken in a stranger and even less would have hidden a fugtive, let alone helped him escape to a safe place._

Silas knew that Police scanned the internet looking for key words. The best way to escape detection was to change one letter. It was a paranoid measure, particularly now in Switzerland but being paranoid had saved his skin many times in the past.

_You were a Good Samaritan to me – feeding and clothing and sheltering me, helping me get medical aid, giving me privacy and peace, finding me spiritual solace, even donating blood – what more could any person do for another? For the first time in my life, someone helped me and asked nothing in return – not even the obedience and good works that the Church demands._

_I had nothing to offer you, I still don't – but I know you would still keep giving of yourself as long as I needed anything without looking for a return. That makes you a very unusual person, in my experience._

_It feels strange to be here still, even after my first full day. It's good to have Seraphim here but the Abbot tends to keep him occupied with Ecumenical talks. The day is fully occupied from 2am to 6 or 7pm at night. As a Novice, I don't have to keep all the Divine Offices but it would be impractical not to fit myself into the routine now. The Abbot is already talking about teaching me animal husbandry so I can work on the Abbey farm. He knows my sensitivity to sunlight but doesn't think it will be a problem as most of the animal tending is done in the sheds and stables. He is also going to let me start my degree in Theology at the start of the next semester by correspondence through Berne University although that is not usual with Novices. _

_I'm only allowed to use the internet on a Saturday, so I won't be able to write again until next week. As I said, I just wanted to let you know how grateful I am for everything you've done. Words don't really cover it but all I can do is say, thank you._

_Sils._


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

_your friend who is as your own soul_

_Deuteronomy 13:6_

During that day, the Abbot had made time to walk around the grounds of the Abbey discussing his newest Novice with the Bishop.

"Tell me about this friend of Silas' that paid for a private plane to Zurich and also made an extremely generous donation to the Abbey," the Abbot asked curiously.

"Yes, Sennett is a little unusual," the Bishop agreed, smiling with pleasure at the views of the Valley around him.

"Sennett? This friend is female?" the Abbot asked, surprised.

"Oh yes, a woman of means and education and from a good Catholic, French family," Seraphim confirmed with a nod, "She lives alone in Kensington and works as a Tutor and Researcher at Oxford. Her field of expertise is diverse covering ancient and medieval history, Church history, linguistics, ancient texts with a smattering of Theology. She is a fascinating conversationalist and an easy friend to spend time with."

"She is single?" the Abbot asked probingly.

"Oh yes, she never married. She doesn't seem to want to from what I've gathered. She loves her independence and is quite self-sufficient," Seraphim said truthfully.

"She is attractive?" the Abbot asked neutrally.

"Oh, very. She could have been married long ago if she had wanted it. She is a well-balanced person with a lot of friends from all walks of life. No-one has a bad word to say about her. I think in another age she would have been a contemplative like yourself but family commitments and the freedom she enjoys so much keep her from that kind of life now," Seraphim said generously.

"She is religious?" the Abbot asked curiously. So many people who worked in Universities, particularly their Religious Studies departments, were very secular in their views.

"She is a practicing Catholic and her faith is very important to her," Seraphim confirmed.

The Abbot was satisfied for now on the subject of Sennett. The rest he would extract from Silas. He had always planned to be Silas' Confessor since he received the Bishop's letter. He didn't trust anyone else to the task.

"So tell me more about Silas," the Abbot said after a pause.

"He is a diamond in the rough. I'm sure Aringarosa saw that too. Unfortunately, Aringarosa used Silas in the service his own obsessions and Silas has suffered terribly as a result. His trust in the only friend he thought he had has been smashed to pieces. He will find it hard to trust anyone now," Seraphim said regretfully.

"Even after all Sennett has done for him?" Abbot Philemon said mildly.

"Sennett was only in his life very briefly – just under a month. Now, he is here and must start again. I doubt her influence was long enough to undo all the harm from the last 35 years of his life," Seraphim said honestly.

"No, my community here must do the bulk of that work," the Abbot agreed.

"Silas is very, very bright. He has had pitifully little foundational education, yet he reads well and writes well. His vocabulary is good, when you can get him to talk rather than just ask a lot of questions. He is very curious which is always a sign of intelligence. He speaks three languages already which will make learning any further languages easier for him. I imagine he will need to learn German to add to his English and French, living in Switzerland.

"He has a tendency to self injure which must be watched. He seemed to conquer it while living with Sennett but could easily be tempted to fall back into it if he is stressed.

"He is very humble and quite obedient. His prayer life seems rather crude but that may be the fault of Opus Dei training and easily corrected in time. He is anxious without access to the sacraments but able to tolerate solitude quite well.

"His social confidence is non-existent and his social skills very underdeveloped, although he is very polite and clean. He seems to have been separated from socializing with other Numeraries at Opus Dei, probably because of the plans Aringarosa had for him. If treated with sensitivity, he does come out of his shell – mainly, as I said, to ask a lot of questions. He seemed genuinely surprised and deeply touched by any sign of friendship or kindness. He is quite amazed to learn of anyone liking him or wanting his company. I don't think he has any idea of how much myself or Sennett or Diggory value him just for who he is. I think the idea would be completely new to him. If the men of your community can show liking for Silas without asking anything in return, I think it will heal a lot of Silas' deep wounds and give him some healthy self-esteem which he totally lacks at the moment.

"I don't believe he is naturally attracted to sin, the way some men are. He knows his faults and exaggerates them to himself, berating himself when he falls short of his own high standards of behaviour. He was desperately unhappy all the way to Zurich because he had forgotten to say thank you to Sennett at the last. He thought that meant he was a very ungrateful person, rather than someone under stress going into a new environment who merely forgot. I believe that since his youth, since joining Opus Dei, his only sins have been those imposed upon him by authority figures who had no right to abuse his promises of obedience in that way. He grieves horribly over them nonetheless, despite his full and frank confession, and absolution.

"I do think that when under extreme stress, if he was backed into a corner, he may come out fighting for his life. He has a strong, instinctive defense mechanism that was built into him very young by a violent father, by growing up on the streets and having to survive in jail. I think it probably served him well on more than one occasion. He needs, however, to learn to control it and learn that most environments do not require that kind of defensive behaviour. Opus Dei channeled that behaviour to its own ends, making something that was instinctively self-defensive into something that could be used as a weapon against their perceived enemies. They really messed with his mind and took all his vulnerable places and warped them to their own ends. Goodness only knows what kind of horrible mess they have left. I am sure you will find out over time, Abbot," Seraphim said, showing a remarkable understanding of his new friend gathered in a very short time.

The Bishop glanced at the silent Abbot and was surprised to see both anger on his face and tears in his eyes as he looked out unseeingly over the lovely valley.

"This should happen to no person, least of all in a body sanctioned by the Church," the Abbot said finally through clenched teeth, "What would the world think of us, if they knew the truth about Opus Dei?"

"They would think that any institution as big as the Church is more than likely to collect its fair share of nutcases," Seraphim said mildly.

The Abbot looked at the Bishop sharply then threw back his grizzled head and laughed out loud.

"You are right, good Bishop," the Abbot said after a hearty laugh, "And I can see Silas has a very good friend in you."

Sennett received Silas' email on Sunday morning. She was sipping coffee when she checked her messages and was thrilled to hear from him so soon. She hadn't even been sure he would be allowed to use the email at the Abbey.

Sennett smiled for a long time after reading it. She would not answer immediately as he wouldn't be able to read it until Saturday anyway. She would have to come up with something interesting to tell him.

Silas settled into a routine that first week. He said goodbye to Seraphim on the Tuesday and tried to concentrate on living the Rule. In the main, he was successful. He was used to self-discipline and obedience and regular prayer times. He enjoyed working with the animals and they responded very well to him. Even the experienced monk who was teaching him new skills was impressed at how well the animals reacted to Silas' handling.

His physical strength had already been restored by the month of rest at Sennett's flat. Without the cilice and the discipline and the rigorous fasting, he built up health and vigour quickly in the fresh mountain air of Engelberg.

Because of his duties with the animals, he had permission to miss certain Divine Offices of the Rule throughout the day and also was not allowed to restrict his food intake as much as others in more sedentary roles. Unlike the office workers, he had to eat three times a day instead of twice. He was required to do so under obedience to the Abbot.

Although he adjusted well on the surface and the Abbot had no cause for complaint, Silas did not make a good emotional transition. He put it down to it being his first week in a new place and didn't dwell on it too much. However, he could not hide it from his Confessor.

"I noticed that you are very quiet and subdued, Silas," the Abbot said in their first weekly meeting on Friday.

Silas shrugged and looked at the floor, his pale head bent and his shoulders slumped.

"Are you not happy here?" the Abbot asked kindly.

Silas frowned. He didn't know if his unhappiness was linked to the Abbey or something else.

"I don't know," he said honestly, in his grating tones.

"You don't know if you're happy or not?" the Abbot asked patiently.

"I don't know if my unhappiness is due to the Abbey or other things," Silas admitted with a small sigh to himself.

"What other things?" the Abbot persisted gently.

Silas shrugged again, almost impatiently. "Everything has changed so much, so quickly," he said in his deep voice, "Everything that I thought I was living for and was important to me was pulled out from under me. I don't even trust myself to know what is true and what is not anymore."

"You must give yourself time to grieve and to adjust," the Abbot said simply.

Silas nodded.

"You've settled in well. The brothers like you. Brother Paul thinks you are wonderful with the animals. You've adopted the Rule without problem. I think you need to give yourself space to heal emotionally from the events of the past month or so," the Abbot said encouragingly.

The brothers had been very kind to him, making a point of coming over and speaking to him during the brief recreation periods, making sure they pointed out his good points and the things he did well to him, introducing him to each other and saying nice things when they did so. It had been like a balm on the open wounds in his spirit. It had warmed him and made him slightly more relaxed.

Perhaps the Abbot was right, perhaps the dreadful ache he felt that seemed to almost paralyze every thought and every movement was only a reaction to the past month - to losing his security in Opus Dei, to losing his faith in his only friend until then, to having everything he was certain of tipped on its head. Perhaps time was the only thing that would make it go away. For now, he had to keep trying to make it work.

On Saturday, he logged on to the internet at around 7pm to send both Sennett and Seraphim an update on his week. He was amazed and excited to see an email waiting there for him from Sennett. She had replied to his email from the previous week. He actually felt his heart pick up speed, as he clicked on the link to open it.

_Hi Sils!_

_Thanks for your email, it was so lovely to get it. I guessed you were pretty overwrought, what with starting a new life in Engelberg. That's only natural, you know._

_You must tell me about your fellow monks and your daily routine. Monastic life is so fascinating to us decadent types outside monastery walls. _

_I think you'll enjoy working with animals. It sounds quite heavenly, looking after animals out in the fresh mountain air. When I was a very little girl, all I wanted in the world was to live on a farm and tend animals. So, I envy you!_

_Seraphim has told me all about how beautiful the Abbey and the valley is. He has a very high opinion of the Abbot and believes you are in the very best of hands. I was very relieved to hear it. _

_Robert Lngdon has been to see me in the last week, wanting some help with his new book. He mentioned my visit to the Louvre (you remember me telling you all about that episode with the Priory freak with the gun?) and seemed to believe my motives were as pure as the driven snow, thank goodness. I should have been an actress, I think. Oddly enough, it looks like I might be going back there at same stage to help him examine the inscriptions on the tomb and so forth. He had a young woman with him - Sophie Nveu. She has some connection with the Priory. I didn't want to appear too curious, so I didn't ask too many questions. I'm sure I'll learn more in time._

_The lab that did our DNA testing has been back in touch. It seems like there would be some interest in the findings from our tests on Mary's bones because of their age and origin. I said I'd get back to them about authorising further testing and contacting academic bodies. They can't release a smidgeon of information without my permission, so I think I'll sit on it for awhile. I don't want to open any cans of worms. _

_Things have been pretty quiet for me other than that. The flat seems quite empty with just me in it these days. Sometimes I find myself looking up to say something to you but you're not there anymore! It must be senility setting in._

_Well, please stay in touch. I would love to hear more about how things are going for you. I feel like I have a personal investment in your happiness now, so I want to ensure things are going well in Engelberg._

_Take care,_

_Sennett._

To Silas' surprise, he found his eyes were full of tears by the end of the email. He wiped them roughly away with a feeling of bewilderment. What was wrong with him? Why did a friendly, chatty email from Sennett make him feel so off-balance again? He was in a worse state than he thought.

Pulling himself together, he composed a reply full of bits of news about his daily routine, the new skills he was learning, and the men of the community and how kind they had been. He expressed interest in Langdon's motives and those of the Lab in asking permission to do more tests.

After he signed off, he quickly looked around the library. He was alone. He printed out Sennett's email, folded it up small and put it in his deep habit pocket. He hadn't been forbidden from printing out emails, so he wasn't being disobedient. He just didn't want the other monks to know what he was doing.

After that, he composed an email to Seraphim.


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

_I lie awake, and am like a sparrow alone on the housetop._

_Psalm 102:7_

The weeks dragged by and before Sennett knew it, it had been a month since Silas left for Engelberg. They had stayed in touch via weekly emails but it wasn't the same as sitting down to a meal with him and being able to talk the way they once had. Still, she looked forward to hearing from him and he never missed a weekly email.

She expected to gradually adjust to not having him around, for the loneliness to diminish but to her surprise, it didn't. If anything, it deepened over time. She never really got used to her empty flat again. She withdrew slightly from her other friends, turning down more invitations than she used to. She didn't feel like putting on a cheerful façade. Perhaps knowing Silas and dealing with his problems had taken more out of her than she realized? Perhaps she needed a holiday away from London and work.

The long Summer holidays were due soon and Oxford would get very quiet. She was pretty sure she could get permission to take 2-3 months off. Another tutor could cover for her in the few weeks she would miss of the new semester.

The more Sennett thought about it, the more she wanted to get away from London and her flat. It had been a long time since she had visited many places around Europe that she had really loved. Her parents had made sure she was well-traveled by the time she was a teenager, so she knew the places that she enjoyed visiting.

She would take her laptop for her private work. Internet connections could be found everywhere in Europe, so she would miss none of Silas' emails.

The first place she would go was a private castle on the coast of Italy. Her parents were well enough acquainted with the owners for her to be able to rent it for a month or so. Several movies had been shot there but her favourite was 'Enchanted April'. Sennett decided she needed an Enchanted June in order to get her feathers smooth again.

Silas received Sennett's emails each week as eagerly as the first one. Somehow, when he was reading that weekly email, all the loneliness and unhappiness of the previous week seemed to fall away. Although he really had settled in to Engelberg well in terms of routine, he still was battling malaise and that awful, debilitating ache.

The men of the community were very caring but due to the contemplative nature of the Order, they rarely spent social time together. He didn't have much chance to get to know them well. Even if he had, he doubted he would have much in common with any of them. He would not be able to tell them the truth about himself and his past. With Sennett, it had been so easy to be honest and be himself.

She was taking holidays and sent him digital photos over the email every now and then of the places she was staying in. His eyes grew wide when he saw the rich, magnificent colour of the Italian castle gardens. Every shade of the rainbow was crowded in wild profusion from garden to beach, and then stretched water silvered by dancing sunlight to the horizon. It was a dream of heaven. Silas had never seen anything like it. His life had been lived in the poor suburbs of Marseilles as a boy – dreary and ugly and dirty, then on the hideous streets until being shut away in a tiny stone cell in a jail. He had seen more of the world after that within Opus Dei but his life was shut away most of the time until he had a mission to perform. Then his view of the world had been narrowed down to simply knowing the best path to follow in order to trap a particular man. His surroundings were singularly irrelevant. He barely saw them except as information on how to get to his target.

Was it possible to have a life where one could visit places like this, just because they were beautiful? It seemed it was. The thought was a revelation to Silas' narrow and intensely practical vision of life. It seemed like an impossible dream for someone like him and perhaps it still was. His life had always been defined by survival and work, not by beauty and pleasure and fun. He didn't know how to change it.

Sennett whiled away the month in Italy. She had a few friends that she had invited to visit her for a few days at a time and it was lovely to see them when they came but she was just as glad to see them go. For most of the time, she jealously guarded her days.

The Italian sunshine would probably have done her some good if she could go out in it. It was easy enough to stay in the shade with all the mature trees around the estate and in the garden. She longed to swim in the sea but had to go either early in the morning or late in the afternoon when the cliffs shaded the water.

The rest of the time, she lazed in the garden and took long walks in the shady garden. She tried to read, there were always a lot of books being published that she should keep on top of in her line of work. Usually it was easy to be interested in them. For now however, she found it impossible to concentrate. She didn't want to do anything at all, not even think. She found herself noticing things around her far more, the shape of a flower petal or the different coloured feathers on a bird. In some ways, it was like being a kid again. There was time to watch the changing shapes of the clouds and have an empty mind.

At the end of the month, she packed up to go to Norway. She loved the fjords and it was enough of a change to sound interesting.

One month turned into three with aching slowness for both Silas and Sennett.

The Abbot could not figure out the reason for Silas' malaise. In every way, he had settled in well. The other men genuinely liked Silas for his humility and deferential manner, as well as respecting his work ethic. They knew if they took the time to talk to Silas, they were going to be listened to both respectfully and with authentic interest. Silas liked to hear other people's stories; it gave him an insight into other ways of living that he had never been exposed to before. It gave him new ideas about life. It made him wonder about the choices that may be open to him if he was willing to take risks.

In the end, the Abbot decided to contact Sennett. He had Seraphim's excellent advice on handling Silas - all of it having worked extremely well as far as it went. He didn't have Sennett's view on his Novice, however. It could prove valuable or provide some insight.

He rang Seraphim at the library he worked at and Seraphim gave him Sennett's email address. Apparently she was away from London on holiday but was checking her emails.

_Dear Ms Langlois,_

_His Grace, Bishop Seraphim has kindly given me your email address. I hope you will pardon my intrusion on your holiday._

_I write in regards to a friend of yours. I won't name him over the internet least it compromise him in some way. As you know, he is well into his Novitiate at our Abbey. As his Confessor, I felt it might help me to help your friend if I were able to meet with you to discuss your time with him and what you learned about him. It might give me some insights on how best to guide your friend at the present time, as he seems to be suffering from a kind of melancholy that will not lift._

_I am happy to report that in every other way, your friend is doing very well. He has just begun his studies at Berne University and the reports from his lecturers are excellent so far. His skills in animal husbandry go far beyond the time he has spent apprenticed to the head of our farm and he is well liked by the other monks here. As such, I am at a loss to understand his depressed spirits. I know his past has been tragic and cruel but he knows he is in a safe and accepting place. He should be blossoming in confidence and self-esteem, and I believe he has made progress in these areas in leaps and bounds. However, something seems to be oppressing him, preventing his happiness in these achievements._

_I am happy to meet with you in Prague at your convenience which is where I understand you are currently holidaying. I am due to attend a Benedictine conference in Berlin next week and would be able to stop in Prague while in transit. _

_Could you please kindly indicate whether you are willing to meet with me next week by return?_

_Regards,_

_Abbot Philemon._

Sennett could not have been more surprised. The Abbot's timing was good. She was due back in Oxford the week after next, so if he had wanted to meet her after next week it would have had to be in London.

She could see no harm in meeting the Abbot. She wasn't sure whether the Abbot simply wanted to pry into the parts of Silas' past that the Bishop had not been able to reveal due to the seal of the confessional. Sennett felt protective of Silas. She would not tolerate prying. So, it was with a spirit of wariness that she replied to the Abbot's email to meet her in her Hotel Lobby the following week.

Sennett loved Prague. It made her feel like she was in a different centuary; a slower, more gracious and more human centuary. She knew it was an illusion. It would have been a more brutish and dangerous centuary too. Still, she'd rather focus on the beauty and graciousness of the architecture and imagine to herself that it was an easier era to live in.

She waited in the Hotel Lobby. She knew the Abbot's plane was on time because she'd checked the internet site. He wouldn't be far away. She knew she would recognize him, he would be in black monk's robes. He would stick out quite a bit.

Sure enough, almost exactly when she expected him, a monk in black robes with grizzled hair walked into the lobby. Sennett got up from a seat and walked over to him. He was obviously looking around for her.

"Abbot Philemon?" Sennett said, walking up behind him.

The Abbot whirled around, "Sennett?" he said and then his eyes widened in surprise. In a flash of certainty, the Abbot knew without doubt why Silas was depressed and struggling. The answer was standing right in front of him.

"Would you like to share a pot of tea or some coffee with me in the lounge? There are not many people around at this time of the morning and we should be able to talk freely," Sennett said.

"I hope you won't find it an intrusion but would you mind having our chat in your suite? I'm concerned for your friend's safety if what we discuss is overhead," the Abbot asked.

Sennett nodded. She could see he was being very, very careful. That was a comfort. At least he was taking extra-special care of Silas.

Sennett took the Abbot up to her suite and wondered what on earth any other patrons would think if they saw him entering or leaving her room. She smirked to herself. After offering the Abbot a chair at a small table, she rang down for coffee and cake.

"What do you want to know about Silas?" Sennett asked, coming straight to the point when she sat down again.

"Just your impressions of him. I know so few people who know Silas, so it's of help to me if other people can share insights into his character and personality to help me guide him. His soul is in my care at the moment," the Abbot said, somewhat heavily.

Sennett shook her head slightly, "How do I describe Silas to you? He is indescribable. He is so different from any other person you will ever know. You've had more time with him in your care than I spent with him, so I'm surprised you are asking me this."

The Abbot shrugged, "The routine of the Abbey is very strict. There is little time for socialising. I only have an hour or so with Silas each week as his Confessor and I must say, he has not been particularly forthcoming with me. He will answer any direct question I ask him truthfully but he won't just talk about himself or how he's feeling or his past or his hopes for the future."

At that point, the morning tea arrived and Sennett poured the Abbot some coffee and gave him a slice of the cake.

"Silas is more of a question asker than a talker," Sennett said thoughtfully, "Perhaps his questions tell you more about who he is than the things he might otherwise say. Do you ask all the questions?"

The Abbot immediately realized she was right. He had been asking all the questions. He should have given Silas encouragement to ask as many as he liked.

"Thank you, that already helps me immensely," the Abbot said humbly, "I get the impression that you spent a great deal of time with Silas, just talking," he added after a pause.

"The only times we really had was over breakfast or dinner because I was at work most of the time and he was passed out on pain killers. On the weekends, I would be in and out of the flat running errands or meeting up with friends. We did have some very personal conversations on occasion, however. He seemed to feel comfortable talking to me. I'm not sure why," Sennett admitted.

"I know that Silas emails you every week and he gets a great boost from hearing from you. He keeps a copy of your weekly email in his habit pocket. He is not being disobedient in this and no-one minds but it is like you are a private thing to him that he doesn't wish to share," the Abbot said carefully.

Sennett stared at the Abbot. She had been expecting the conversation to go in this direction. She knew how it must look to others. The unexpected news about Silas keeping her emails made her feel suddenly glad.

"Abbot Philemon, I know what you are trying to say and I understand why. I know what you are thinking and I do have to tell you that our relationship was not like that. We never even exchanged a hug, let alone anything else," Sennett said bluntly but in non-aggressive tones.

The Abbot didn't know whether to be surprised or not. He had guessed that Sennett was not stupid. You didn't have the degrees and job that Sennett did if you were stupid. What he hadn't known was that Sennett was also a very direct, straightforward person.

"You don't have to have had a physical relationship for there to be ties of the heart," the Abbot said gently, "And there is nothing wrong in that feeling being there."

Sennett was silent for a few moments. "I have no idea what Silas felt for me other than gratitude perhaps," Sennett said honestly, "I don't think I was the kind of person that he had ever encountered before, so perhaps there was some curiousity as well. I think he may have envied the opportunities I'd had in life too. I think I opened up the world to him a little – just a tiny crack. Through my eyes, he was able to see a lot of things differently."

"Why was he able to open up to you when he finds it so difficult with anyone else?" the Abbot asked.

"I think he met me in a very vulnerable moment – life and death, in fact. He had no option but to trust me if he was going to survive," Sennett said, knowing full well it really wasn't the full answer. She didn't know the full answer herself.

"And why did you do so much for him, a perfect stranger and obviously a dangerous one too? Why did you choose to hide him from the Police, why weren't you afraid of him, why have you invested so much of your personal wealth into his comfort and his future?" the Abbot asked quietly.

Sennett shook her head. She didn't know herself. There weren't many people she would do that for. "I just felt right at the start that he was more of a victim than a danger. I felt sorry for him because he was so vulnerable. When I heard his story soon after I took him in, I knew my instinct had been right," she replied, again knowing her answer was incomplete. After a pause, she said, "He does have a truly terrible vulnerability."

The Abbot knew what Sennett meant. For such a large man who obviously had a history of violence of some kind, there were times he seemed as vulnerable as a small child.

"I think he loves you," the Abbot said gently but uncompromisingly.

The words were shocking to Sennett. She had never even thought them. She had refused to think them. She didn't want to think them. There was no point. It was not a thought that someone like herself had any right to. She was sick and she would be a burden on any man.

She felt the shock of the thought spread out over her skin like cold water. She couldn't say a thing.

"I'm not sure he understands that, however," the Abbot added truthfully. After a moment, he said, "When I first saw you, I knew it. You are beautiful, not just pretty. You are roughly the same age. You treated him like a human being, perhaps the first person to ever do so. Someone like you would have an enormous impact on someone like Silas, particularly when he was in such a terrible situation. It would be very hard for him to walk away and walk out of your life without feeling like he was losing the best thing that ever happened to him – because you _are_ the best thing that ever happened to him."

Sennett shook her head, almost in denial. "I don't know if you are right but I'm not sure what you want me to do about it even if you are," she said. She went to take a sip of her coffee to cover up her discomfort but her hands were shaking so badly that it only made it worse.

The Abbot could see that he'd upset her quite badly. He realized he was not looking at a manipulative or selfish or vain woman who had lured a vulnerable man into loving her just because she could.

"I'm sick, Abbot. I don't have any right to love a man who would only find me a burden eventually," she whispered, tears in her dark eyes.

The Abbot was shocked. He had no idea that she was sick. She told him a little about the disease; roughly what she had once told Silas himself.

"Perhaps he is just having trouble settling in," she said finally, clinging to the hope that he'd be fine in time. She badly wanted Silas to be happy.

The Abbot shook his head slowly. "No Sennett, you must face the truth even if Silas is still ignorant of it."

"What do you think I should do about it?" she demanded, almost angrily. She couldn't remember the last time she felt so agitated.

"I think one day he will leave the Abbey and come to you. Just be ready for it," the Abbot said simply, "Until then, we will continue to shelter him."

"Thank you," Sennett whispered.

"At any rate, now I know why I can't get through to him and why he is unhappy. He will realize the truth in time. For now, I can't do anything more than I am doing," the Abbot said, "Thank you for your time Sennett. You have helped me immensely."

Sennett felt restless after the Abbot left but suddenly, she didn't feel so depressed. She decided to return to London early.


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

_A fire not blown shall consume him._

_Job 20:26_

Sennett felt calmer when she went back to London and settled back into the rhythm and pace of Oxford. She deliberately didn't think about the things Abbot Philemon had said and tried not to dwell on thoughts of Silas. They would keep coming back at odd times – something he had said or a particular expression on his face. It no longer made her unhappy, however. She would even smile quite often when she remembered some of his odder questions or more amazed expressions.

Silas was struggling more and more, however. He withdrew into himself even further in confessional although his friendships within the community were still good. He felt like he was wrestling with shadows that he couldn't name.

In so many ways, he felt he was growing. The ways of the gentle men around him were rubbing off on him. He learned how to mix with others, to have considerate manners and understand what was expected in terms of civilised behaviour both in a group and one-on-one. He learned some of the art of small talk without being false or insincere; the kind of communication that greased communal life and made it more pleasant. He learned to have more confidence in approaching others with questions or for help. He was never rebuffed or treated unkindly which made him so much more secure. In that sense, his anxiety lessened exponentially which felt both odd because it was strange to him not to be so anxious but also quite wonderful. He felt lighter and freer.

Brother Paul taught him how to deal with those outside the Abbey who supplied certain goods and services to their farm. Silas found himself communicating with ordinary, good-hearted, honest people in the local village and beyond. They wanted to get along with him, not just for the business that the Abbey bought them but because they were basically nice people – the sort of people that Silas had never known before. It was a source of wonder and astonishment to him that such people existed, particularly outside monastery walls. It warmed him and gave him hope to know them through his new work. He enjoyed hearing about their families and their lives in the surrounding villages. As time went on, he found it increasingly easy to talk to them naturally without his usual restraint. It made him wonder if it was possible to find a place populated by people like this somewhere in the world; a place where he could settle down and have a life without the strict Rule of a monastery.

After nearly six months, Silas made an honest assessment of his time at the Abbey in the privacy of his own cell one night.

He admitted that he loved working on the farm with the animals and seemed to be good at it. He would like to keep doing that. He liked the company of the other men but they had so little time together socially that he felt he never got enough time to enjoy it. He was doing well with his study through Berne University and it was opening up so many things to him. He would be devastated to lose his chance to complete his degree. The supportive environment at the Abbey was helping him enormously to grow as a social person and to gain confidence. He was no longer afraid that he didn't know how to behave properly amongst normal, well-adjusted people.

He was getting frankly fed up with the Rule, however. He didn't like being made to pray in such a regimented way. He had not questioned it at Opus Dei but then again, Opus Dei hadn't had a Divine Office that started at 2am and didn't finish until 6pm. He found getting up at such ridiculous hours unnecessarily tiring. He didn't want to talk to God at 2am and he didn't want to go to bed at 7pm.

If he could find a way to still work in animal husbandry, still study through Berne and be with people like those he encountered outside the community in the villages, Silas believed be could be happy. He didn't need the Rule so long as he could get to Mass every Sunday. He didn't need set prayer times, so long as he found time to spend with God every day. He didn't need his time with others restricted so ridiculously. Those times helped him grow as a person – it was helping him become more normal and confident and secure every day. He needed more of it.

Silas was sure he would be able to choose who would be good people to mix with now. He had had an opportunity to see all walks of life; the bad and the good. He had no desire to mix with the bad ever again. At least now he knew there were good people out there, if one was discerning. He was confident he could find good people to share his life with and avoid the bad.

Despite all these positive things that made Silas feel so much lighter in so many ways, he still wasn't happy. It wasn't the weight of the Rule dragging him down. He was used to unpleasant discipline. There was something more that he still couldn't name. It caught him at odd, unguarded moments. Suddenly he would be aware of a vast, empty space within. It felt big enough to stretch to the horizon. It felt deep enough to have no bottom. The emptiness ached and hurt. Those moments were overwhelming. Feeling this vast space within him frightened Silas. He was afraid he would always feel it and never get away from it. At the same time, he was desperate not to feel it. He would almost want to hurt himself again so the physical pain would distract him from it. Sometimes it haunted him for days. It would weigh down his limbs as well as his heart. He would find it hard to function, hard to care about what he was doing, hard to concentrate on the task at hand and impossible to pray.

After six months of so many wonderful new discoveries, Silas could no longer blame the trauma of everything that had happened before coming to the Abbey. It was something else, something he couldn't name.

In the end, he turned to the one thing he knew would make him feel better for awhile. He pulled Sennett's last email out of the pocket of his robe and carefully unfolded it to read again.

Sennett knew deep down she was getting sicker. There were times she felt an odd sinking feeling. She chose to ignore it. She didn't care if she was sick. It didn't seem like anyone else cared either. People still made the same demands they always did. People rarely, if ever, asked her how she was – even those who knew she was sick who were around her every day and her own family. Certainly no-one showed any consideration or sympathy. It made her fed up with people sometimes. The human race was selfish. Being sick had shown her that. So long as you were able to deliver to others what they wanted, they didn't care how you were or what it may cost you.

It seemed like she had stopped caring about anything much herself. She traced this strange reaction back to the time Silas had left London. Ever since then, she hadn't felt any drive to keep going. She just kept going because she didn't know what else to do.

She kept going until she finally collapsed one day at work about six months after Silas had left.

When Silas opened his email and didn't see Sennett's usual weekly email, his spirits sank so suddenly, sharply and completely that it scared him. It wasn't like Sennett not to communicate. She was a faithful correspondent. She had never missed a single week since he left London. Perhaps something had happened to prevent her getting on-line before Saturday?

Feeling desperately anxious and not knowing what to do with the feeling, Silas logged out. He immediately went to the phone in the refectory that any of the monks could use at restricted times to ring Seraphim, stopping by his cell to get the number. Fortunately, they were allowed to use the phone after 6pm on any night of the week.

Seraphim's answering machine picked up.

_You have rung the home of Seraphim S. I am currently away on retreat and will be uncontactable for a few weeks. If you would like me to ring you on my return, please leave a message after the beep._

Silas hung up with a feeling of despair. What did he do now? He stood alone in the refectory as still as a statue for a long time as his mind tried to work out a solution to the problem.

Sennett could be in trouble, she could be sick… If she was just away, she still would have contacted him by email. No, something had to be wrong…

Finally Silas decided to wait until Wednesday and check his email again. He didn't care if it broke the Rule. Sennett was more important than any Rule. If he hadn't heard from her by then, he would go back to London to try and find out what had happened. She had given him a key to her flat to keep in case he ever needed to go back for any reason. He didn't care if the Abbey threw him out for it. He would figure something else out.

With desperation sitting in his heart like a weight, he went to his cell to count the hours until Wednesday night.

The Abbot could tell immediately that Silas was restless and anxious over the next few days. No attempt on his behalf would draw Silas out as to why. The Abbot guessed it was something to do with Sennett but without Silas being willing to tell him about it, there was nothing he could do to help. He had a feeling that Silas would not be at the Abbey for much longer, not because they would expel him but because he would leave and not wish to come back.

Sennett had given Silas a brand new credit card the day before he left for the Abbey.

"If something happens and you need to get away from the Abbey quickly, if one of your enemies finds out where you are and you need to make a run for it, I want you to use this credit card to buy anything you need – airfares, food, accommodation, new clothes, whatever," she had told him, handing it over, "I'll keep an eye on it and make sure its paid each month. Make sure you sign the back before you use it."

It was a platinum Visa Card. The limit on it boggled Silas' mind. He had no idea what on earth he would ever need that would account for the limit she had put on it. He had carefully hidden it doubting he would ever need it.

When he opened his email late on Wednesday night and there was still nothing from Sennett, Silas knew he was leaving and may never be back. He took the Visa out of its hiding place, packed his own personal belongings (pitifully few) including his study materials, put on the clothes he had worn to come to the Abbey and slipped out the building into the night.

He had already located a road map with directions back to London from Zurich on the internet, and called a cab. The only car hire place open at this hour would be the airport, so that was where he was going first.


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

_And you shall know the truth, and the truth shall make you free._

_John 8:32_

Silas knew he would not make it to London before the sun rose and he didn't want to travel through England in daylight, so he stayed in a small motel just outside Paris during the day and slept. At 6pm, he set out again. He would get to Sennett's flat at around midnight depending on when the Ferries left Calais. Driving at night, he would make better time into London as well.

Silas felt strange during the long night-time drive. It felt odd to leave the Abbey behind him. It felt like he was leaving more than Engelberg Abbey. It was as though he had shut the door on a whole way of life; a whole option for his future was now a closed issue. It left him feeling very free but oddly disconnected. He felt surer about his decision than he had ever felt about anything. The life of a monk was not for him and there was nothing further to be thought about or discussed. It was a dead issue. His future was now an open book but he was in no hurry to make plans.

The strangest thing about the decision was that it felt entirely his own. He was so used to having his life regimented for him by either the necessities of survival or by obedience to an authority that having the freedom to make a life-changing and vital decision about how he wanted to live was a strange feeling. Silas didn't realize it at the time but it was the security and confidence that the brothers in the Abbey had carefully instilled in Silas over time that enabled him to make decisions freely and without the old fear and anxiety that used to dog him. The brothers had put the tools in Silas' hands for him to break free of a life he wasn't suited to.

Silas found it hard to sleep in the motel. He was worried about Sennett and it bothered him that he couldn't do any more than he was to find out if she was okay. Time hung heavily on his hands. Finally he fell asleep over one of his text books that he had bought with him.

By the time he reached London and parked his car in a side lane near Sennett's flat, he was almost afraid of what he would find. There was no-one else around on the back streets of Kensington at this time of night, so he was able to let himself into her flat without being seen. The flat was in darkness and Silas turned on the lamp in the lounge room, easily remembering his way around although it was six months since he had been there.

Silas could feel immediately that the flat was empty and had been shut up for awhile. Everything was left as though Sennett had expected to be back soon, however. It was obvious that she had not been planning to go away.

At this time of night, Silas could not do anything much. Even if Seraphim had been back from his retreat, he would not have been able to call him at this time of night. All he could do was wait until morning. He was sure Sennett would have an address book with her friends' contact details in it. He could ring them to see if they knew where she was. He didn't have to identify himself. He could also try and track down her department at Oxford. Her workmates must know where she was.

He curled up tired on the couch and began to fall asleep. He felt odd, as though he had come home. It was a silly thing to feel when it was really Sennett's home and he had only spent a month here before. Still, it was the one place in the world where he had felt completely comfortable. He could feel that comfort flooding his veins once again as his white eyelashes closed over his pale eyes.

Sennett checked herself out of the hospital early that morning. She did feel much better than when she had been raced there in an ambulance but she knew she wasn't very strong yet. The doctors didn't really seem to know why she had collapsed. Then again, that was the problem with having Lupus. The doctors didn't seem to have a clue. They didn't know what caused the disease and they didn't really know how to treat it either. It was really a case of suppressing symptoms rather than curing the disease. What use was that? She always felt like a guinea pig that doctors were testing their theories on. It was annoying and exhausting. She knew she just needed rest and peace. A hospital was no place to get either.

It was in depressed spirits and without much hope that she finally returned to her flat which she had been away from for nearly ten days. She was glad to be away from the hospital but not overjoyed to be back in her flat.

Silas was in the kitchen making himself a cup of tea after just waking up when he heard the key in the lock and came through to the lounge, hoping it was Sennett. He could feel his heart pick up speed as he walked through.

Sure enough Sennett had just walked in but his heart almost stopped when he saw her. She looked ill and tired and dispirited. Her skin was paler than usual and her eyes looked too bright with fever. Her cheeks were thinner, the bones of her face more prominent. He could tell she was physically weak just by looking at her. She actually looked like she might fall down any moment.

When she saw him though, her face transformed. At first she looked stunned but then she smiled slowly, like the sun coming out from behind the clouds. She dropped her bag and went straight over to him.

It looked like she might hug him at first but seemed to hesitate. She put out her hand to him, for him to take. Her dark eyes searched his face, wanting to see how he was. He looked very well, much better than she had ever seen him. He had fresh colour in his face and had lost that haggard, exhausted look. Obviously farm work in the fresh air agreed with his constitution. No doubt the lack of corporal mortification and endless fasts had helped his health a great deal too.

For Silas' part, he wasn't about to make the same mistake twice. He pulled Sennett's slender form against him in a hug. Sennett realized quickly that Silas still hadn't mastered the art of hugging. He was holding her far too tightly. She could barely breathe. She wondered if he knew his own strength. It was considerable and her ribs felt ready to break. She put her arms around his neck for lack of any other place to put them. It was awkward to do anything else in this bone-crushing embrace. Despite the suffocating nature of her position, she could feel herself melting into the warmth of Silas' body. It felt so good, she half hoped he would never let go. However, he would have to if she was ever to breathe again.

For the first time in a long, long time Sennett felt perfectly safe and at peace. It surprised her, how strong this feeling was. Nothing felt out of place. She could breathe in Silas' scent forever or so it seemed. He smelt clean, like fresh mountain air and sunlight soap. She closed her eyes and rested her silky dark head on his chest, feeling herself relax. When was the last time she really felt relaxed? She couldn't remember.

Silas didn't want to let go. She felt fragile in his embrace, all small bones like a bird. If he hadn't known she had been ill by looking at her, he would have known it when he held her. He could feel she was thinner than when he had left. To his surprise and jubilation, he felt Sennett's body relax and lean against him. It was like when he held a small, sick animal. They just went still in his large, pale hands.

Neither of them moved or spoke for a long time. Finally Sennett lifted her head and looked up into Silas' face, her dark eyes darting over his face searchingly once more.

She put her hands on either side of his face and looked him in the eye, "How are you Silas?" she asked seriously, "Are you alright?"

Silas didn't understand why she was asking him this when it was obvious it was _her_ who was not alright.

He simply nodded, "I'm fine. I was worried about you when I hadn't heard from you. It's not like you not to write. I thought something had happened to you and now I can see you've been sick," he said, his pale brows drawing together in a frown that Sennett found achingly familiar.

"How did you get to London?" she asked, her expression worried.

"I drove but only at night. No-one saw me," he reassured her.

"It was a risk," Sennett said anxiously.

Silas shook his head, "I couldn't stay away. I would have worried myself to death wondering what had happened," he said with his breath-taking honesty and lack of guile.

Sennett's face cleared a little as she absorbed this. "I missed you," she said truthfully.

Silas' pale eyes lit up with a strange pale blue light. No-one had ever said they missed him before. That someone like Sennett could miss him was extraordinary.

Silas nodded slowly, "I missed you every day," he said in his rasping voice.

"Are you happy at the Abbey?" Sennett asked, leaning her head against his chest again. He seemed to have relaxed his death grip a bit.

She could feel him hesitate and she frowned but her face was averted from him and he couldn't see her expression.

"I like working on the farm with the animals. I like my study. The brothers are very nice and helped me a lot. The villagers are nice too," he said evasively.

Sennett lifted her head and frowned up at him, "You don't seem very sure," she said anxiously.

Silas pressed his lips together as he struggled for words. Sennett thought (and not for the first time) what a nice mouth he had. It was full and firm and wide. Such a waste on a man she couldn't kiss, she thought with a small sigh to herself.

"I don't want to be a monk," he finally burst out and then pressed his mouth closed again.

Sennett stared at him in astonishment, her dark eyes wide. "You don't?" she said.

"I don't want to be told when to pray and what to pray. I don't like getting up at 2am to say sleepy prayers made meaningless by tiredness. I don't like all that regimentation. I want to see more of the world. I want to live in my own home amongst nice people like the villagers. I want to spend more time with the animals and less in draughty churches," Silas said - a remarkably long speech for him.

Sennett frankly stared at him. She had never imagined that Silas may want any other life than that of a monk. She knew Opus Dei numeraries and monks were quite different things but Silas had seemed to thrive on an ascetic life. She thought he'd make a perfect monastic candidate. Now he was saying he wanted a normal life with the choices and options and freedoms of a regular person.

Slowly, a smile curved the corners of Sennett's mouth. Here was a new Silas before her - a freer, confident, secure Silas who had more trust in the world and in people than previously; a Silas who knew what he wanted rather than allowing circumstances and authority figures to kick him around or tell him what to desire.

Here, finally, was the happy and well-adjusted Silas she had wanted. She knew he still probably had a long way to go but he was well on his way. At least he knew what he wanted now and could make decisions which was a great step forward.

"What are your plans, Silas?" she asked, leaning back a little in his embrace to see his face more clearly.

Silas had no clearly thought out plans before this moment but suddenly it all became clear.

"I want to finish my animal husbandry apprenticeship but on a regular farm, not the Abbey farm. There is a large farming district in Central Switzerland. It is safer for me there," he admitted, "I'd like to keep studying by correspondence too. If I could finish my apprenticeship, I could settle in the village nearby if I didn't stay on the farm itself."

Sennett smiled dreamily as she listened. It sounded lovely. A life in the fresh mountain air looking after animals while still being able to study what you were interested in, being involved in village life too. She sighed. It was a life she couldn't have herself, regardless of how lovely it sounded. She still missed the French countryside she grew up in. She didn't like town life.

"It sounds wonderful, Silas," Sennett said almost wistfully, "I miss living out in the country. I miss wide open spaces and fresh air and peace and the slower pace."

"Why do you keep working at Oxford and living in London then?" Silas asked, confused.

"I suppose there is a certain prestige to working at Oxford but I must admit, its only useful to ambitious people who want to publish academic works – people like Langdon, for instance. Oxford is a centre that draws all the best academics in the world as well as having wonderful resources. It's a very stimulating environment. I couldn't find that in France. Living in London is just convenience," Sennett said.

Silas thought about this in silence. "It's made you sick, Sennett," he finally said quietly.

"It probably is all a bit much for my health," she admitted with sigh, "I've thought about working part-time for quite awhile now."

"You should be sitting down," he said, reluctantly letting her go, "You've been sick."

Sennett went and sat in an armchair while Silas went to make them some tea. When he came back, he sat on the end of the couch nearest to Sennett and looked at her earnestly.

"I'm going to look after you until you're stronger," he said firmly, "and then I want you to come to Switzerland with me."


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

_There is no fear in love; but perfect love casts out fear, because fear involves torment. But he who fears has not been made perfect in love._

_1 John 4:18_

Sennett found herself staring speechlessly at Silas with her lips parted in stunned disbelief. She no more would have expected Silas to say such a thing than she would have expected him to fly.

"Switzerland?" she finally repeated, feeling light-headed, "My life is here Silas," she said but realized immediately she didn't sound convinced of what she was saying.

"Your life here is ruining your health and making you unhappy. You don't like town life. Come and live in Switzerland with me in the country," he said simply.

Sennett stared at him some more. Who was this man? He had changed so much that she barely recognized him but in so many ways, he was achingly familiar and dear. The Silas she had known would not dream of inviting a woman to move to Switzerland with him. It was inconceivable and yet, he just had.

"Silas, have you thought about the implications of what you're asking?" she said, deliberately gentle. She had the feeling he had not.

Silas' eyes widened. "I'm not asking you to do anything indecent," he said, looking deeply shocked, his pale cheeks flushing a deep shade of red, "I just want to take care of you and see you get well and be happy. We wouldn't be able to live in the same house, I suppose," he added, having just realized that once settled in Switzerland and no longer in hiding, it would be inappropriate to live together as they had done before while he had been wounded.

Sennett's eyes filled with tears. She couldn't remember the last time anyone cared whether she was sick or well, except in how it inconvenienced them, let alone wanting to take care of her and wanting her to be well and happy.

"That sounds like my Silas," Sennett said, smiling at him.

Being called 'my Silas' by Sennett made him grow warm with pleasure. "I just can't imagine my life without you in it," he said with the candour of a child. His pale eyes held that strange, naïve gleam and shone clear of guile. She had forgotten what it was like being around him. There was just no-one else like Silas.

It seemed to Sennett that every time Silas said something, he surprised her. Why should she be surprised? The Abbot had told her this would happen. In her heart of hearts, she had denied it. It had hurt to think about Silas while he was gone. It was easier to tell herself she would probably never see him again or not for such a long time that it wouldn't matter. Of course, that didn't explain why they had both been such faithful correspondents while apart.

"You could take on a post at Berne University. I'm sure there isn't a University in Europe that would knock you back," Silas said thoughtfully, his ideas coming together. "Berne is in the middle of the farming district, it would be perfect."

Sennett knew Silas was right. In fact, Berne had approached her a couple of years ago with an offer to take over the History or Linguistics School. She was sure she could at least get some part-time tutoring work. She received offers like that all the time from Universities all over the Continent and even in the United States.

"I'll think about it," Sennett promised, "We can talk about it some more after I've had a chance to absorb the idea."

Silas knew when to stay silent. At least she was willing to think about it. He had blurted out the idea before even thinking it through himself but the more he grew accustomed to it, the more he liked it. He didn't want to be anywhere Sennett wasn't anymore. He had been miserable at Engelberg because she wasn't there. On the other hand, he simply couldn't stay in London and be safe. If she would agree to go to Switzerland with him, he believed everything would be as perfect as it ever could be.

Sennett told Silas where to find the linen to make up his old bed in the spare room. He insisted on doing it himself while Sennett went to lie down and rest.

Silas couldn't be happier to be back. Still, he couldn't get the memory of holding Sennett close to him out of his mind. Being back in her flat felt right but having Sennett in his arms felt even more so. He had no idea what to do about it, however.

It was not like the brief sexual encounters he had had as a young man. That had been nothing more than two empty vessels bumping together in the night. Holding Sennett was totally different. It made him feel full, complete and at peace.

He sat tensely on the edge of the newly made up bed and frowned, biting his pale lip. This was a new problem. His only thought when leaving the Abbey had been to find out if Sennett was okay. At the same time, he knew he would not go back there. Once he was here in London, he realized that he didn't want to be apart from Sennett ever again. Again, his thoughts hadn't gone much past this revelation. He genuinely believed that living in the country would help Sennett's health but his desire to have her go back to Switzerland with him was purely selfish. Would having her as a neighbour really be enough for him?

His frown deepened. He hadn't thought about the implications of having her in Switzerland with him. There was no way on earth he would compromise either of their reputations by sharing a house with her. It was outside his moral frame of reference. Did he just want to 'share a house' with her anyway? Or did he really want to be able to hold her whenever he wanted to? The idea took his breath away. Was it even a possibility? He had no idea how Sennett would feel about it. It had been such a long time since he thought about a woman in that way, it was strange to even be considering it. Like opening a door to a room that had long been shut and discovering it was full of new treasures.

Silas felt his heart skip half a beat as he allowed himself to even consider a whole new relationship with Sennett. Would she even _consider_ viewing him in that light? Even consider trying to love him in that way rather than just a friend? He didn't know. He had no idea.

He chewed on his lip, uncertainty taking root in his mind. He wouldn't know where to begin. He had been away from those kinds of relationships for so long that he had even forgotten how to flirt. Then again, he wasn't sure he had ever really known how. It wasn't his style. It would feel ridiculous asking her out on a date. Dating was for people who didn't know each other very well yet. He felt like he knew Sennett by heart. She certainly knew him better than anyone in the world ever had.

It suddenly struck Silas that there was absolutely no impediment to marrying Sennett, apart from getting her to agree. Opus Dei numeraries made contractual promises of celibacy, not vows. As a Benedictine Novice, he had not taken any enduring vows either. He was as free as any other man. It was a startling new thought. Silas sat very still as this revelation sunk in, the frown clearing slowly from his face. He was free to love Sennett completely - if she wished him to love her that was.

Silas felt off-balance again. Once more, his view of the world and his own life and the possibilities open to him were rearranging themselves in wonderful new ways. It seemed like the whole world was open to him. He could choose what would make him happy. For the first time in his life, he could _choose._

Of course, then there was Sennett's view of things – of _him_. He knew for sure that she cared about him. She had definitely been glad to see him today. The look of joy of her face when she saw him was like balm to Silas' anxieties. Would she even think about _marrying_ him, however? He was not like a normal man. His background was very bad. Not many women would want to take on a street rat, a jail bird, a murderer and someone who had been part of an organization like Opus Dei for more than a decade. Apart from that, what on earth did he have to offer her? He didn't even have a job lined up for when he got back to Switzerland although he was sure it wouldn't take long to find one. People with good animal husbandry skills were getting rarer and rarer. He didn't have a home set up for her there. Even his own health had to be taken care of. Albinos had their own set of challenges, although there was no doubt he was fit and strong and able to earn a living. Was she repulsed by his white looks? She had never shown any sign of it but he really had no idea.

He began biting his lip again. He needed to put some plans in place and then, he would have to work up the courage to speak to her and be honest.

Silas cooked dinner for them both that night while Sennett was resting. He couldn't do much more than bacon and eggs and toast but Sennett wasn't picky. She wasn't all that hungry either but she had a go at the food to be polite.

Silas asked about Langdon's book and Sophie Neveu, who Sennett had now met. Sennett filled him in while they ate.

After dinner, Silas went and sat on the couch with one of her books while Sennett had a shower. She would be going to bed early. She didn't feel very strong yet. She came back out in her night gown and went and sat next to him on the couch, curling her legs under her and leaning against him as she turned on the TV with the remote. To Sennett, it felt perfectly natural. If he was comfortable (finally) with hugging then he would be comfortable with being leaned on. She liked being close to him, it was as simple as that.

He didn't hesitate in putting an arm around her slender shoulders, although he was initially surprised at her curling up against him like a small animal. He liked the surprise, though. He had learned the hard way never to hesitate in responding to her acts of affection. He felt her relax against him once more as they watched the Current Affairs show.

"I don't know why I watch this," she said sleepily, "It's so depressing."

When he looked down at her again, she was fast asleep.

It occurred to Silas that if he and Sennett were married, their evenings would be pretty much like this. He sat very still, to let her sleep. He would be quite happy to spend the rest of his life this way.

Sennett found herself in her own bed the next morning although she had no recollection of how she got there. With a rush of warmth, she remembered that Silas was back. She smiled sleepily to herself. Life was immediately so much better.

She got up late and wandered into the kitchen to get herself some cereal.

"You should let me do that," Silas' deep voice came from the lounge room before he appeared in the kitchen doorway.

"It's only cereal, Silas. I feel better being back at home anyway," she said, "Have you eaten?"

"Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself. It's you I'm worried about," Silas replied in his rasping voice.

"Don't worry too much," Sennett said reassuringly, spooning cereal into her mouth, "Have you contacted the Abbey to let them know where you are? They'll be anxious about you."

"Can I use your internet?" Silas replied, pointing to her laptop.

Sennett logged in for him and Silas sat down to compose a very hard email.

_Dear Abbot Philemon,_

_I am sorry to have left without word on Wednesday night but I was worried about my friend, Sennett. I hadn't heard from her and she had always been a good correspondent. Our mutual friend Seraphim was uncontactable at the time, so my only way to check on Sennett was to come to London._

_When I left the Abbey and broke my Novitiate vow of obedience, I realized that the life of a monk was not for me. I feel so ungrateful telling you this, as I know how much time and resources and love you have invested in my care. I can't tell you how much your kindness and that of the brothers has meant to me. Being at the Abbey has changed me in so many ways for the better. You have given me a sense of security and safety, and taught me so much about how to live within a healthy community and have strong relationships. In teaching me these things, you also enabled me to make choices and decisions. You have given me the gift of options, perhaps for the first time in my life._

_I hope you are not disappointed in me. That would make me very sad. I would never wish to let you or the community down. _

_I am currently considering my options. I would like to go back to Switzerland to live and perhaps complete my animal husbandry apprenticeship in Switzerland's central farm lands. I would also like to continue my study by correspondence once I have settled somewhere. In the meantime, I will make arrangements with the University to take over responsibility for my own studies as I am no longer the Abbey's responsibility._

_In the meantime, I will stay with Sennett in London as she is recovering from a flare up of her illness and needs help with day-to-day tasks until she is stronger. I will probably be here for at least a couple of weeks._

_I am contactable on his email address should there be any formalities that need to be cleared up with regards to the termination of my Novitiate._

_God bless,_

_Sils._

"Do you think the Abbot will be very disappointed in me?" Silas asked, his pale head bent and his eyes lowered.

"No," Sennett said, nursing her cup of tea for the warmth.

"Why not?" Silas asked curiously.

"I met the Abbot once," Sennett said, unsure whether to tell him or not.

Silas raised his strange eyes and looked at her in amazement.

"He came to see me about you," Sennett continued, "He told me that he believed that you would one day leave the Abbey, probably sooner rather than later."

Silas' mind was racing. How did the Abbot know? He had never said anything like that in his weekly confession. He hadn't known himself that he would leave until that last week.

"How did he know? What else did he say?" Silas asked hoarsely.

"He said he believed that when you left, you would come here to me," Sennett said.

Silas looked away. How had the Abbot known? He had never spoken of Sennett to the Abbot. It was something too precious to him to share.

"I'm glad he was right," Sennett said softly.

Silas looked up at her again and Sennett didn't look away. He got up and came over to where she was sitting and knelt down next to her on one knee, looking up into her face.

"I love you, Sennett," he said humbly, surprised when the words came out of his mouth, his odd eyes lit with that strange blue fire.

"I love you too, Silas," she replied without hesitation, one hand running caressingly over his white head. It was absurdly easy to say.

Silas' eyes widened. Why had he wasted so much time? Why had he made complications?

"Marry me," he said, his voice even rougher than usual.

That surprised Sennett. She had not been expecting that. She took a deep breath.

"Yes," she said.


	23. Chapter 23

_A/N - Well, we finally reach the romance and now my kind reviewers are saying it has all happened too fast - after 21 chapters! I admit, I had to laugh at the irony especially as some readers were expressing doubt that it would ever happen at all not long ago. Well, I can only write the story that is 'there' and hope others enjoy reading it as much as I enjoy writing it down. Thanks for all your encouragement and comments, you are all really very kind and generous._

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

_all my desire is before thee; and my groaning is not hid from thee. _

_Psalm 38:9_

If she had had time to think about it, Sennett would have realized how absurd it was to be engaged to a man she had never even kissed. That was just Silas, though. He would no more try to kiss a woman he wasn't engaged to than he would stand on his head. Perhaps in one part of his life when he was a very young man but not any more.

Sennett found herself being thoroughly kissed after she said yes, however. It was about that time that she realized Silas most definitely had a 'past'. It amused her that this man who had led such a strict ascetic life had such a deep vein of ardor.

It was also around that time that Silas realized staying under the same roof as his now-fiancé was going to be harder than he could have anticipated. Kissing her was one thing but he wanted to do far more than kiss, particularly when he got the searing response that he did. It was like something that had been asleep within him for over a decade suddenly came ragingly to life, like a sleeping tiger. He immediately recognized the danger.

They had kissed so long and so deeply, that Sennett felt quite dizzy. She was too weak for such strong passions still. _She_ was more than willing but her flesh was too weak. When Silas finally lifted his mouth from hers, she went white and would have fallen if Silas hadn't held her up.

"Sennett! I'm sorry, I shouldn't have… I'm so selfish!" he berated himself, as he led her to an armchair to sit down.

"Rubbish!" she said with a breathless attempt at airiness, "I wanted to kiss you too, you know."

That was still the part that amazed him.

"You need to get well again. That has to be our first priority," Silas said sternly, more to himself than to her.

"I will. I just need to rest for two or three weeks," Sennett said cheerfully but her voice was weak.

"You need to go back to bed and rest," Silas directed gently.

Sennett nodded tiredly. She got so tired of having to rest, instead of living.

Later that day, Silas received a reply from the Abbot.

_Dear Brother Sils,_

_I was so glad to hear from you. I was worried to find your place empty on Thursday morning. All the brothers have been concerned, hoping you are well and safe._

_As Sennett has probably revealed to you, I met her some months ago while she was visiting Prague. The first moment I saw her, I realized the reason for your inability to settle into the Abbey. Your feelings for her are only natural, Sils._

_My disappointment is purely selfish, Silas. We will all miss you._

Here, tears stung Silas' eyes.

_I am sure Brother Paul will be happy to extend excellent references to any farm that would be lucky enough to obtain your animal husbandry skills. Please give them the Abbey's contact details should they require a reference. Until you are employed (and I am sure it will not take very long), we will continue to pay for your studies at Berne University. You still have wages outstanding from your work on the Abbey farm. _

_Please come and visit us at the Abbey again as soon as you can. We would all like to see you. Also, please extend an invitation to Sennett to come and look at some of our ancient texts in our library. I had been meaning to ask her for some time but was unsure whether to invite her before now, understanding your feelings for her._

_You will need to come back at some point to sign some papers but these are mere formalities. There is no rush. _

_I look forward to seeing you and God bless._

_Abbot Philemon._

Silas sighed to himself. He would miss the Abbot and the brothers but he could not restrict his future to the walls of the Abbey. It was a comfort to know how much good will was there for him, however.

During the next week, Silas and Sennett laid their plans to return to Switzerland.

Silas began sending emails to farms in the central farming district. With Sennett's help, he was able to put together a good resume of his skills and present himself well. He received offers of interviews almost immediately.

Sennett also contacted the University to Berne to see if they had any suitable positions. She received an enthusiastic reply asking her to meet with the University Chancellor. They seemed prepared to make a position for her, depending on her preferences.

They decided that Silas would go on ahead to see Abbot Philemon and attend interviews. Sennett would follow a week later to visit Berne University and begin negotiations for a contract.

After Silas had been back in London for two weeks, he left again by private plane under cover of night to line up his future in Switzerland with Sennett.

Abbot Philemon welcomed Silas with a wide grin and arms open for a hug. Despite Sennett's thoughts on the subject, Silas had learned about the art of hugging during his time at the Abbey. The men were affectionate in a mild way and Silas had gained a great deal of his new security through the occasional hug or pat on the back that he had received from the men of the community. It had made him feel less isolated and repulsive; less of a freak.

Silas had to sign papers to release himself from his Novitiate vows – fortunately not perpetual ones. The Abbot offered to let Silas use the Abbey as a base while attending interviews and making arrangements. He would not be required to attend the Divine Offices or keep the Abbey's usual hours but he could have his old cell back for the time being. Silas accepted with gratitude but knew he would be spending a great deal of time on the road, going from farm to farm for interviews and staying in motels.

In the end, the second farm that Silas went to for an interview would prove to be his future home. It was a small to medium sized farm. Silas would complete his apprenticeship under the supervision of the farm owner, and a senior cowherd and a shepherd. Part of his time would be spent at the local agricultural college studying animal science – something the Abbey would have done after his Novitiate if he had stayed.

The money was good for an apprentice, the hours would enable him to continue his study through Berne University part-time and there was a workers cottage available to him in one of the fields if he wished to use it.

It suited Silas as he had rather dreaded working on a very big farm with a large group of established animal husbandry experts. He still was nervous about integrating himself in a group although he had learned through his time at the Abbey that in the outside world, people could be kind and good. He felt comfortable working with three other men at this smaller farm. The owner also seemed sympathetic about his delicate colouring as an albino and willing to work with Silas to ensure his health was protected. This kind of consideration was unlikely in a larger establishment.

By the time Sennett arrived, the paperwork had been signed and Silas was due to begin within a few weeks.

He found her in the library with her dark head bent over some fragile, old text when he came in from the stables the day she arrived. She didn't hear him come in at first, so intent was she on trying to date the manuscript from the linguistic evidence and how the letters were formed. When he touched her shoulder, she looked up and grinned from ear to ear.

"Hail the conquering hero," she said, referring to his successful job hunt.

"I'd prefer a kiss," he said in his rasping voice.

He got one.

Sennett had to stay in a hotel in Engelberg as women sleeping in the Abbey was strictly forbidden. The Abbot suggested to them that perhaps they would consider getting married in the Engelberg Cathedral as the brothers would love to have the opportunity to attend the ceremony.

Sennett and Silas exchanged a look of delight. Why hadn't they thought of that?

"Sennett will need to invite her family," Silas said considerately.

"No… I don't think I'll do that," Sennett said musingly, "If you meet my family before we get married, you might change your mind."

Neither the Abbot nor Silas thought it was likely.

Later when they were alone, strolling through the shady parts of the Abbey garden, Silas said, "Are you sure you won't invite your family?"

"They'd spoil it," Sennett said in a small voice and then sighed, "And I don't want that day spoilt. Not _that_ day," she emphasized.

"Why do you think they'd spoil it?" Silas asked hesitantly. Sennett's family was rather a taboo topic. She rarely spoke about them and the times she had, Silas had got a very negative picture.

"They've spoiled just about everything else," Sennett said with unusual bitterness and frowned.

Suddenly Sennett thought of something for the first time and a feeling of creeping horror flooded her veins.

"Silas, do you want children?" she asked, trying to sound casual and failing utterly.

Silas winced. Here was an issue that he had deliberately squashed into the back of his mind. He didn't know what to say.

"Why? Do you, Sennett?" he asked tentatively in his deep voice.

She stopped walking and turned to face Silas, a troubled look on her face.

"I should have said something sooner. I don't know why I didn't think to. I've been selfish. I never considered that it may be something you want because it hasn't been a priority to me. I can't have children Silas. It's dangerous for a woman with Lupus to get pregnant. Doctors advise against it," she said with a mixture of anxiety and sorrow, "I'm sorry Silas."

Silas felt nothing but relief. He was terrified of passing his albino genes onto a child, although the risk was not particularly high. He had suffered so much as a result of his unusual looks that he hadn't wanted to risk any child of his having the condition too. He had made up his mind about that as a teenager and never changed it. If Sennett had desperately wanted children, he would not have denied her anything but it was a relief that it would not be an issue.

Silas gently told her how he felt about having children and he could see the tension leave Sennett's slender frame.

"I don't know why I didn't think of it either," he admitted.

"Everything has happened so fast, I suppose," she said, taking his hand as they walked.

"I would like it to happen faster," Silas said guilelessly and made Sennett laugh, "Talking of which, when do you want to get married?"

"Whenever you like," Sennett said, feeling completely relaxed and untroubled again.

"On Sunday?" he suggested, not seeing any reason why not if her family were not to be invited.

Sennett looked at his pale profile in the shady light under the trees and thought seriously about the suggestion.

Why not, she thought? Her family did not have to get here. She would tell them later, when she broke the news to them that she had moved from London to Switzerland. She could get a simple white dress inside a week in Zurich or one of the other cities. The brothers could be the witnesses. There was no need of a reception without family or other guests there.

"Yes but what about the honeymoon?" she joked lightly.

Silas just turned his pale head and smiled down at her. So long as she agreed to marry him at the end of the week, the rest didn't matter.

_A/N 26/01/2009 – I think it's about 2 years since I looked at this story. Just recently I've received a few emails about it out of the blue asking about the epilogue / sequel which got me thinking about it again. I'm now about 18 or 19 chapters deep into that sequel and hopefully will finish it in the next couple of weeks. It's called 'The Temptation of Silas' and you can find it on this web-site – I just posted the first chapter today. It ties up the loose ends and we'll be able to leave Silas and Sennett in peace after this, I think._


End file.
